


Escapism

by onceuponthetides



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Elemental Magic, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Grey Hermione Granger, Grey Severus Snape, Kinda, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), POV Hermione Granger, POV Severus Snape, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Spring Fever, The Pursuit of Knowledge, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 50,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponthetides/pseuds/onceuponthetides
Summary: Time, space, magic and even fate, are all relative. When Severus Snape is thrust into a situation where he learns this very quickly, can he stay in control? Will he want to?Hermione's life has sent her on one chaotic ride after another. What's one more?--Hopefully a worthy twist on one of my favourite cliché tropes. A brief glimpse of the summer after the canonical third-year, and onwards into the unknown!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "There is in every madman a misunderstood genius whose idea, shining in his head, frightened people, and for whom delirium was the only solution to the strangulation that life had prepared for him."  
-Antonin Artaud
> 
> My first fic, written to help the kindred spirits I found in Hermione and Snape escape their 'strangulation' among dunderheads, as I did, and I feel all my fellow madmen should be allowed to.

**SS**

The last thing that Severus Snape could remember was reclining on the roof of the Astronomy Tower, basking in the sun with his skin liberally warded against the UV rays. He had been savouring perhaps the most relaxed summer of his career since the Potter boy had begun his schooling three years ago. Most wouldn’t believe it to be possible, him, relaxing. But with the students out of the castle, Pettigrew on the run instead of sleeping in the pockets of children, Black in hiding, the bastard, and the comforting notion that he would no longer have to live in the same building as the werewolf who had plagued his nightmares in school, he felt like he could take a full breath for the first time in months. 

Of course the feeling wouldn’t last, for even now he was becoming less sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, showing him an ever-so-slightly-darker stain coming over what was left of his Dark Mark. And the less sure he was, the more concerned he became, and thoughts of his two terrible masters returned, crowding in with their manipulations and their war. Better to be forcefully ignorant for a moment longer than to go down that mental sinktrap. 

He had brought a novel for some light reading on his rooftop perch, the only place he’d found on the school grounds where he didn’t feel the near-constant paranoia, and had been reading it intently when it happened. He’d been so lost in the world of the book that the only thing that tipped him off to the changes around him was the difference in the book’s weight in his hand.

He blinked and found himself looking at his fifth-year potions textbook instead of his novel. After the initial disappointment-confusion-double-take, his years as a spy kicked in. Taking in the details of his surroundings, he was relieved to find them familiar and non-threatening, as much as Hogwarts ever really had been, for him.

A sunny day on the Hogwarts grounds. Could it be that cursed day? Checking the dates on his notes quickly confirmed it. It was. A flood of icy dread went down his spine. Not again. He had experienced this dream one too many times. He had gone so far as to carefully occlude it from his subconscious mind so it would stop appearing in his dreamscape.

So then, what was this? A waking nightmare? Pinching himself viciously, he hissed under his breath at the pain. Definitely awake then. Silently casting some of the best illusion revealing and dark magic detecting wards he knew, he scanned the area and found there to be nothing at all out of the ordinary. Adrenaline pounded through his veins.

He looked back at his potions book, left open on his lap. They had been studying the potion to imbue sands with time. Outlined in the text were the more basic magical hourglass sands, to the sands and clay that potters used to create scrying bowls to peer through time, all the way up to the golden sands of the time-turner.

He’d avoided all he could of the wizarding world’s dalliances with time from then on, as it reminded him of his worst memory. The day he lost his friend. But, as he now began to recall, he had been reading a muggle book about time when this sudden shift came about. A Wrinkle In Time, it was. And oh, how he sometimes hated magic for its obscene love for turning less than mere coincidence into an event, a new Path.

To confirm his suspicions, he wracked his brain for any memory of date spell. He knew the one for simply telling time, but rarely used it, as his internal clock worked like, well, clockwork. It had been trained into him in early childhood to rise before the sun and spend his most vulnerable moments of the day alone, before the rest of the world was awake. Then, not just _ knowing _ the routines of others around him by heart, but sensing them, anticipating them. That was how one survived, he knew. When did his father go to work, and return? Knowing when father’s payday was, and exactly when to not just be out of the house, but out of the neighbourhood. Survival.

In school, it was the same. He poured over discarded schedules late into the night during the first week of school, every year after his terrible first year, for although he could not understand what he’d done to make them hate him so much at the time, he had become a target for four horrible Gryffindor boys, who terrorized him even more consistently than his father.

He knew the Gryffindor class schedule better than he knew his own, and mapped out his daily route around it, sometimes even sprinting between classes due to the detours caused by avoiding them. 

And yet. They found him. After their third year, there had been next to nowhere to hide from the Marauders. He hated admitting that they were clever, but whatever they had done to find him worked, time after time. 

Casting around once more in his memories, he remembered the Granger girl muttering a date and time spell that he suspected she had created herself, though he still half-doubted she was creative enough to do so, due to her well-demonstrated love for doing things ‘by the book’. 

Now that he thought on it, she had used it so frequently in the past year he knew it by heart, wand movements and all. Perhaps she was dealing with some form of OCD? He couldn’t think of another reason anyone would need to know the exact date and time so frequently.

Nevertheless, he cast it, and clenched his jaw tightly as it confirmed his fears. Nineteen-seventy-gods-damned-five. His worst year, his worst memory, the first day of the rest of his life that he would find himself completely alone in the world. Halting his train of thoughts in its tracks, he employed the breathing techniques that he had learned to appreciate after years with a muggle therapist, and broke down the reality of his situation.

So. It was not a dream, or an illusion. He was reading time-related things both before and after the event, though he could not be sure of the true source of the phenomenon. ‘That’s just magic for ya’ he thought sarcastically, clenching his teeth. All in all, he could be reasonably sure that he was truly here, in this time period, and the fact that it happened at all meant there was no way back. The timeline was already damaged irreversibly, even if he did know how to return.

Feeling muscles, now only half as rusty as they had been in his former timeline of moments ago, stretch his 15-year-old face into a grin that could have scared a shark, his heartbeat in his throat, he said the only thing he could in the face of this bizarre situation.

“Oh, _fuck_ yeah.”

\--

**HG**

Hermione Granger was doing her damnedest not to cry or throw up. She absolutely despised heights. How in the world had she ended up on the roof of the Astronomy tower when she had just moments ago been throwing what was admittedly a very embarrassing temper tantrum, under her favourite tree on the grounds? Despite now being 17, the fact that she _ was _ had been the catalyst for her outburst. She couldn’t be expected to act her age when she had only very recently found out what it was, right?

To her dismay, her meeting with Professor Dumbledore that morning had informed her that her over-use of her time-turner had aged her prematurely. She had noticed some changes, but like her mother, she’d been an early bloomer physically, and was already the eldest in her class before any time-turner shenanigans, so by the end of the summer preceding her third year, last summer, she had nearly grown into her adult features completely. Her dreams of being taller were crushed, while she grappled with the uncomfortable additions to her curves by masking them with loose-fitting clothing.

In the headmaster’s office, she had bravely rationalized aloud how no one would notice, since she hadn’t changed physically. Nothing had to change. Dumbledore had been his optimistic self and assured her that he knew her reasons for abusing the time-turner must have been good, and refused to hear it when she began to explain, smiling benignly all the while. And they _ had _ been good reasons! But _oh_ what she wouldn’t do to go back and convince herself that there was no good reason to go down the path she had.

It had started so easily. All she had wanted was an extra night of sleep, and with her hectic schedule, who could blame her? Then the insidious temptation began. The draw of further knowledge pulled at her, and when she had finally caved, it was partly because she could rationalize anything, if it was to help Harry.

She _ should _ know Occlumency and Healing, because of _course_ she would need them, eventually. And the fact that she could, well, meant that she did. She first challenged her OWLs, then her NEWTs. It was surprisingly easy when she didn't have to help her classmates with their studies.

She spent countless hours teaching herself, disillusionment and notice-me-not charms layered around her like a blanket in increasingly varied places that she made a point of never visiting while attending her regular classes, to avoid confusion.

Near the end of the spring semester, she was studying with such a one-track mind, she must have lived a year in what was just a month for everyone else.

It was just like slipping into the pages of a book, and becoming so absorbed in the story she lived lifetimes with the characters, only to shut it and discover that she hadn’t moved from her seat, and only two hours had passed, afterall. It was exactly that, but with a terrible price. She had felt so safe and free slipping behind the folds of the curtain of time, so untouchable as the rest of the world moved around her. Had she used the turner appropriately, even with extra time for sleep factored in, it would have been impossible for her to age too much more than a year, which she had been aware of before accepting.

Damn her brain. It was both her greatest strength and weakness. She knew she tended to overthink things, go off on tangents as her brain whirred far too quickly for others, who looked on in confusion as she rambled. But the worst had to be the pride she took in it. It made her both fiercely competitive and terribly anxious all the time.

Not knowing the answer to a question felt like a death sentence. And having friends like Harry Potter didn’t help it at all, it just reinforced her mind’s conviction, because not knowing the answer at the wrong moment could actually result in death.

In the end, the blame fell to her. Every reason or rationalization in the world would never justify the time it took to study for, take, and pass her muggle A-levels with flying colours. It had become a true addiction, and she knew she would be paying for it, and not just with her age.

Her perception of reality and the passage of time were so entirely fried this summer, she slept in on random days, and would wake up in a panic, thinking she had missed classes, and reach for her sternum to grasp the time turner, only to find that it wasn’t there. She had never slept in a day in her life, before the past year. Years?

During the school year, she had developed a spell to display the exact time and date above her wrist, because her watch traveled in time with her, and having to reset it each time was inefficient. She used the spell religiously throughout the year, and was glad she had perfected it, because she would often forget the date or time, or what class she had upcoming, and her body craved meals at inappropriate times. Losing time had become a frequent occurrence, and that she hated most of all.

And now it was happening again. Maybe she had truly snapped, for even though this wasn’t the first time she had become aware of her surroundings only to realize the weather had changed, or she had read much too late into the night and the sun was rising. However, unless she had been led somewhere with her nose in a book by a friend, she usually remained in the same place.

And _this_!! This was not somewhere she could have mindlessly wandered. At this height, she had no voice to scream with, her vocal cords coated and confined in the all-consuming panic she was experiencing.

Forcing her the rational parts of her mind to find a way to get her out of the situation she found herself in took immense effort, her irrational self screaming that she was _ too-high- _too-high-holy-shit! She hadn’t even gone this high on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius last month! Casting a cushioning charm on the balcony below, she inched towards the edge of the roof before applying the strongest sticking charm she knew to her hands.

She then lowered herself off the roof until only her hands remained and released the charm. It took a few tries to do wandlessly in her state, but she landed uneventfully and stood again on shaky legs.

Emergency averted, she tried to control her heart rate while she properly looked about. It was obviously some time in the afternoon, the sun had moved, but the gap in her memory containing how she must have gotten there still baffled her.

Even stranger were the students she could see smiling about the grounds below. The school year was over, was it not? But it looked like the aftermath of exams down there!

Hogwarts had been empty of students when she left her meeting with Dumbledore. This was getting stranger by the minute!

Tapping twice on her wrist, before fanning her wand from above her forearm towards her fingers she cast her _ Vera Horologia _ spell. The time and date she saw hovering before her couldn’t be correct.

And yet. She did trust her spell. She knew she did it right. The implications of the time being true caused her concentration to fail, and the numbers flickered before disappearing, as she fell into a dead faint.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus adjusts rather quickly, don't you think? For now... muahaha!
> 
> Updates won't usually come this quickly, but I got rather excited after the positive response, eheh. Thank you for showing so much support already, I'll do my best!

**SS**

Being 15 again was a heady drug, Severus discovered. He couldn’t stop his grin, now that he started. Moving his books off his lap, he reached out to touch his toes, just because he could. The twinge in his back he felt was merely from a still-healing scar, and he almost enjoyed the feeling, compared the constant ache and occasional spasms from one too many rounds of Cruciatus during the war.

The lightness in his chest was unlike anything he had felt in a long time. He thought he could breathe before-Hah! That was a mockery of breath. He flexed his pianist’s fingers and marveled at his range of movement now that his shoddy workmanship from one of his stupider moments was undone. Self-healing broken fingers with a bundle of broken fingers was never a good idea.

Okay, shit, okay. He wrangled his emotions in line. No getting carried away. He was too cautious a man to become a carefree teenager just because he was the right age again. He hadn’t even been one the first time around!

He knew the details of this particular day intimately. The should-haves, would-haves, could-haves, and why-didn’t-I-just-shut-UP-for-half-a-seconds had run rivers of regret through his head often enough. Going by the time he saw, he had an hour of what had been studying before the Marauders would arrive.

But why wait for them to come at all? He was free.

Nearly ripping his threadbare sleeve in his haste, he exposed the underside of his left forearm. Gone! Not a single pledge, debt or even a whisper of a vow to tether him. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore could still be found in this timeline, but what mattered most to him was the exhilarating feeling of never answering to either of them again.

He leapt to his feet and chuckled at the ease of it. He hadn’t been particularly old when he left his original timeline, but within his 33 years, he had been broken and patched back together many times. It had aged him, more than he realized. Note to self: preventative yoga in the future. His future.

_ His _ future? Merlin! His absurdly positive mood dimmed a notch as he played with those two little words in his mind. He hadn’t known it was such an intimidating thing to have, a future of one’s own. Severus couldn’t for the life of him think of what to do with it, but he understood that it was not something to waste. His whole life had been spent either fighting for survival in the moment, running from the past, or yearning to change, erase, or rectify it.

The only planning for the future he had truly done for himself was the faint and mostly forgotten daydreams of his childhood, a handful of painful, stabbing wishes during the minor infatuations he fell into scattered throughout his teenage years, and thoughts on lesson planning, when to best harvest potion ingredients, or when long-process potions would need to be adjusted as they mature. Nothing of any true substance.

And suddenly, -perhaps it was the hyperactive hormones of the teenage body he now found himself in- he felt his awe and gratitude at the second chance shift into fear. He wanted to lash out at the source to protect himself from this gift, this curse, he’d been given.

It had given him a second chance, yes, but now he had everything to lose. He had a friend again, even his mother alive, since she wouldn’t break under his father’s terrorizing until two weeks before his sixth year. How could he ensure their safety? He couldn’t fathom losing them again.

He needed to shake himself out of that mindset fast, if only to avoid being caught off his guard. Gathering his books, he wondered to himself what in the world he had been doing, carrying them all, everywhere he went. Right, repeated shrinking and re-sizing didn’t mix very well with second and third-hand books. Ugh, he was poor again. Well, he had long since learned how to dig himself out of that particular hindrance, through an impressive amount of trial and error, and he believed that the best course of action for the moment was to ‘fake it til you make it’, to steal a phrase from the Muggle world.

A small part of his brain, perhaps one that had been occupied with something like pretending to enjoy Lucius Malfoy’s company or something equally ridiculous for too long, now had the space to wonder what the wizarding equivalent of the phrase would be. ‘Cast an illusion to achieve your resolutions’? Ah well, Muggles really did do some things better. First things first though, he needed a goddamn shower.

Those that had known him as an adult assumed many things about him, including his ‘bad hygiene,’ which was merely a combination of, firstly, supporting the intimidating and alienating image he had to present to keep the blithering idiots he had to teach in line, all while they blundered about near open flames and volatile ingredients.

He hated being head of Slytherin House, for it meant there was no escaping the purebloods-are-superior bias he had to portray if he wanted to keep up appearances. The whole 'Slytherin's monster' debacle of the year before last solidified his continued belief that it was all bullshit. It's not as if he hated his House, it was more a hatred that stemmed from the societal expectations that cropped up around it, in the end.

Secondly, the fact that he spent the majority of his time both under great stress and surrounded by the noxious-clinging fumes that spewed from the cauldrons of his stupider students didn’t help matters.

He wondered if he should start a list of things that Muggles do better, including teaching lab safety to chemistry students and not allowing them to even attempt the experiments until they were past the worst of puberty.

Unfortunately, his poor hygiene was quite real at this point in time, though it wouldn’t be for much longer, if he had anything to say about it. Excuses like not being able to afford the correct products for his sensitive scalp were poppycock when one had magic, or even just general knowledge of herbology.

He had simply hated himself and the rest of the world so much as a teen, the solution never crossed his mind.

Attempting to cast an intricate ward that would preserve his books down to the molecular level, he noticed how wild his magic felt. He wrestled with it a moment before he was satisfied with the result. He was immediately drained, so much so that shrinking and lightening the now-protected books, before he placed them in his pocket, was entirely too difficult for how simple it was.

His body’s immature magic was strong, he had forgotten just how strong. Or maybe he simply hadn’t noticed the first time. Exposure to dark magic was likely the culprit responsible for the dampening and blockages he experienced as an adult.

By nature, dark magic was a greedy, growing thing and those who didn’t take the proper precautions often lost both their magic and their minds. Severus supposed he must have lost a little of both, no matter how careful he had been. He’d have to test his limits later now that he was at full strength again, magically, at least.

He shuddered a bit, for it would be an uphill battle to gain the stamina he’d need to perform the complex magic he knew, because despite the raw strength of his magical core, the rest of him was young, weak, and malnourished.

On his way to the dungeons, he had to remind himself that his posture had been abysmal for the grand majority of his youth, and he wasn’t ready to reveal his ‘changed’ self so suddenly, nevermind get over his shock.

He stopped by the greenhouses to ply some aloe vera and lemon from the always-kindly Professor Sprout, stuttering over his impulse to use her first name. With those, he had a quick conditioner for his sensitive scalp, to keep it from putting out too much oil in overcompensation, and he took one of the longest showers he’d had in an age to clear his head.

He laughed outright at how often the changes to his body made him double-take. He had always been thin, but he’d forgotten what a skeleton he was before filling out his height. And though his skin was still littered with scars, at various stages of healing, it looked like a blank canvas to him. There were countless patches of unmarred skin that he hadn’t seen in years.

The first time around, at 15, he could count on his fingers the people who had seen him shirtless, as his insecurity over the scars was overwhelming. Now, he took a bit of pride in them, even missed some of the more impressive ones he’d gained as an adult. He survived them, why not be proud?

As he was drying his hair, he wondered why his younger self let it get so long. He didn’t know the first thing about trimming hair, so for the moment he conjured a familiar hair-tie and pulled half up in a bun in practiced motions, as he put up his hair nearly every time he was brewing privately, and let the rest fall against his shoulders. Properly washed, the waviness of it surprised him slightly.

Fingers itching to transfigure his second-hand robes into something more appropriate for a warm weekend in late spring, he denied himself and resorted to repairing the worst of it. When he left the bathroom, he imagined a change in posture and hairstyle would shock those who knew him far enough for one day.

It was for the best, of course, that people changed their perceptions of him early on. He had no plans to become the person he had been, zip, zilch, zero.

He frowned at the mirror. This body had yet to grow out of his resting-angst-face, which likely had quite a lot to do with his, currently, undiagnosed astigmatism. He’d have to see Poppy about correcting that soon.

He felt a twinge of guilt for never having advised the Potter boy to have his vision fixed, but he would grow up with magical parents this time around, so it would no longer truly matter, if he was even to be born, now. For the moment, he forced his facial muscles to relax and adopted a neutral expression, double-checking the mirror before exiting the bathroom.

He _ knew _ the universe wouldn’t miss a chance to screw with him, no matter how many silent pleas he sent out asking to not run into any of his housemates on the way out of the dungeons. Lo and behold, just as he reached the common room door, he heard a voice call him. Hesitating minutely, he contemplated just walking out as if he hadn’t heard, before turning around as though that was the farthest idea from his mind.

“Avery.” Severus greeted simply. He refused to spare this fool any unnecessary pleasantries, but knew he would have to keep up appearances. It wouldn’t do to turn anyone -who wasn’t already- against him. He wasn’t about to flit around collecting allies like a few individuals he could mention, either.

“That hair of yours’ll be long enough soon we might find you hanging out in the girl’s bathroom, Snape.” Avery snickered.

The blockhead was so oblivious he didn't even notice that standing straight, Severus was now a head taller than him.

Severus rather thought that Avery and Pettigrew would get along marvelously, the scraping-bowing little bastards. Not that an Avery would ever defer to Severus, oh no, never to a half-blood. He would pay good money to see the look on the future Death Eater’s face were he to learn that his beloved Dark Lord was half-blooded too.

“How do you know I haven’t already?”

He couldn’t resist smirking a bit. Waiting a few beats to see if Avery could process his response enough to continue the conversation himself, Severus saw his features twisting towards confused anger, and added, lightly,

“As long as it doesn’t get longer than Lucius’, I think I’ll be okay.” That earned him a laugh. Mood swing averted, Severus slipped out the door before he was caught by anyone else.

Striding down the corridors, he was glad to see they were deserted, likely due to the good weather. Glad especially to have only portraits and ghosts witness him trip spectacularly not once, but twice, over his own feet.

What a difference losing an inch and close to 4 stone in a moment made to his awareness of his body. His center of balance was all off. Collecting what was left of his dignity, he decided to quite literally ‘run’ some tests to give himself an anchor in this body again.

In a deserted corridor on the second to lowest floor, portraits would whisper amongst themselves that the young people get stranger every year. He started at a jog, and ran back and forth along the flagstones until he was sprinting, unable to resist letting out a whoop.

He flopped to the ground and caught his breath. Damn he could move at 15. His stamina and strength were less than even subpar, but any survivor knows that you just have to be faster than the guy beside you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione would be smug, if she let herself, and Severus is VERY smug.

**HG**

Hermione woke in the infirmary. She knew it well, and relaxed. It must have been some kind of stress-induced nightmare. However, when Madame Pomfrey appeared, looking close to her age in apprentice healer robes, she nearly went and fainted again.

So it was real. But no, she was no wilting flower, she wouldn’t faint. She would just have to accept the situation and find a way home.

“You’re awake then, love?” the young matron murmured.

“Yes, thank you Madame Pomfrey.” She winced inwardly after seeing the shocked look on her face. She forgot no one knew her here for a moment. 

“Ah! So our visitor has awakened!” Dumbledore’s warm warble interrupted the frozen moment. Hermione felt the slightest pressure against her Occlumency shields when he met her eyes, and watched as his ever-present twinkle dimmed a smidge when he could go no farther. “Perhaps if she is feeling better Miss..?”

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Thank you, yes. Perhaps Miss Granger would like to join me in my office for some tea.” It was phrased politely enough, but Hermione knew it was not a request. Thinking fast, she realized her knowledge of the future was a powerful resource, one she knew the Headmaster wouldn’t hesitate to exploit it if he found out.

Though he had the greater good at heart, he could easily keep her trapped here to do so. Not even adding the fact that he didn’t know her here to the mix, she knew what he was willing to do, morally, and hadn’t trusted him since learning of how he had covered up Sirius’ attempted murder of Professor Snape.

Better to research what happened herself and exhaust her options before turning to him or any of the other professors.

\--

**SS**

Severus spent the rest of the walk to the great hall reacquainting himself with a few portraits that had been placed in storage sometime within the next 18 years. He wondered what they had done -would do?- to offend Dumbledore enough to remove them.

Schooling his features once more, he passed through the grand doors of the great hall to make his way to the Slytherin table, wincing inwardly at the loss of advantage the high table provided. Being able to view all that occurred in the hall meant further safety, after all.

He saw that Dumbledore, as per the norm, had flounced off to some unknown location once again, leaving his seat empty. Strange, he thought, remembering the time of year. The headmaster was usually present for the week of exams, at least while he was at school. Shaking off his reactive suspicion, he kept walking.

He was free to choose the next best bet for the moment, as dinner wasn’t due to start for another 15 minutes. Selecting a place along the bench closest to the wall, so he wouldn’t have to watch his six as diligently, he settled in to watch the doors, grateful to no longer be pretending his former self’s slouch. Why not take advantage of his ridiculous height? It was one of the only things he would ever be grateful to his father for.

The third years were always the first to enter, ‘starved’ as their growth spurts demanded they become veritable black holes for food. They took little notice of anything outside their mission to eat.

A few seventh-year Ravenclaws were the next to arrive, and he could almost see them take in the new information his appearance provided, file it, and determine that either they couldn’t care less, or that there were much more pressing matters to look into, like the debate on whether Ancient Runes could be called Ancient if they were still in use in modern wizarding society.

With him no longer the only conspicuous occupant of the hall, he was for the most part, largely unnoticed as the rest of the school arrived. Until, that is, his classmates began to file in.

The fifth years had been basking in the relief of completing one of the most difficult OWLs they’d face in the next week or so, and had dragged their feet coming in off of the grounds. He pretended to be completely unaware of their presence and busied himself with filing his plate with the food now on lining the center of the table.

Each gasp, whisper and, ‘what in Merlin’s name?’ (or ‘what the fuck?’ depending on blood status) he heard made the petty cockles of his heart fairly overheat. Shock factor was a guilty pleasure of his, and he reveled in it.

None of his Slytherin year-mates would be so obvious as to ask him outright what brought on the sudden change. Subtlety was a prized virtue in this house. If they ever finished dancing around the question, he planned to give them the most unsatisfying answer possible.

But not everyone could use finesse like a Slytherin, and he could almost predict, down to the second, when he would be confronted outright by the Gryffindor menaces. They wouldn’t interrupt their all-important meal to do so, but he could feel their combined gazes burning into him like so many stinging hexes. They were likely itching for a fight, and he had deprived them of their favourite plaything by leaving the grounds earlier that afternoon.

And boy, did they have ammunition now. The first time around it had been simply his unfortunate display during the DADA exam, where he had spent the written portion of the test so close to the paper it must have appeared he wanted to live inside it, due to a combination of his terrible eyesight, nerves, and forcing his handwriting to be legible for the examiners. But pulling a complete 180 so soon after would confuse them, therefore making them solidly angry, and he knew they’d find a way to twist it into an insult as well.

His 15-year-old body took these thoughts as a cue to tense in anticipation (he would never admit to fearing them) and he forced himself to relax.

Though his physical self may still be stuck in the pattern of abuse, he was no longer, and he hoped when the confrontation came, they would choose a suitable location, far from potential discovery by the teachers, so he could trounce them thoroughly once and for all. Maybe he’d even lure them to some of the lesser-known corridors to ensure it.

He took his sweet time eating, taking some time out of his plotting to truly enjoy the food, and tried every dish without fear of an upset stomach. He would see about organizing a rehabilitating diet with the aid of Madame Pomfrey and the house elves today.

Perhaps a daily supplement potion as well. Malnourishment had long term effects that could surely be helped along to heal with magic.

Being the Slytherin he was, Severus knew that a confrontation in his current state would spell disaster for his plans. Nevermind that he could now take them on successfully, it would only continue to happen unless he thrashed them within an inch of their sanity and changed their preconceived notions of his weakness and cowardice.

For now, he would use the added advantage of being a former teacher to avoid and confuse them to no end. He would choose when to confront them, no one else. No matter how many secret passageways or tracking spells they knew of, there was no way they’d find him fast enough.

Something that very few students ever realized was that Hogwarts was sentient, and would hide them, take them through passages that opened on one floor and exited on another, and more, as long as they knew how to ask it nicely.

And so, it was with a broad smirk that he left the Great Hall, turning around as he passed through the doors to salute the Marauders who had already leapt out of their seats to follow him. Their ‘innocent bloke’ expressions slipped into confusion for some, and red, glowing hate in others. Severus practically skipped out of the doorway and around the corner, whispered to the flagstones and promptly ‘disappeared.’ 

\--

**HG**

Occlumency had come easily to Hermione. It was merely an extension of her own coping techniques. She had always been an empathetic child, and that was oftentimes overwhelming and painful.

She regularly came home in tears, after children in her elementary classes had ‘been mean’ to the teacher, when it was only childish bad behaviour.

In her case, she automatically placed herself in others’ shoes, and couldn’t separate herself from the emotions _ she _ would have felt when treated that way, growing up. Even if that person was an adult, and could handle it perfectly well without taking it personally.

Because others’ emotions and issues affected her so deeply, she did her absolute best to hide her own, so at least she wouldn’t be hurting them the way they hurt her. Paired with the fact that her parents were usually busy, she became an expert on self-soothing, books being the best way to fuel her escapism.

So, following Dumbledore to his office, Hermione was calm, her Occlumency shields in place and her mind safely re-reading a passage out of her favourite book, _ The Secret Garden. _

Breaking down in quickly fabricated crocodile tears in the Headmaster’s office, and claiming terribly confusing ‘partial amnesia,’ with flashes of recognition and memories of older versions of the faculty, the school, etc, was too simple. ‘Wasn’t it just the summer of 1994, Headmaster?’ At this point, she barely blinked when lying to teachers. 

Dumbledore was then delighted to inform her that she ‘must have had a bit of a time-related incident,’ and was ‘likely experiencing the symptoms of amnesia as her brain and magic protected her from the negative effects of time-displacement.’ And as nothing like her situation had ever been recorded, he was suitably proud enough of his ‘discovery’ to think he had learned all he needed to know.

Her Occlumency showed him that ‘thankfully, my dear, you seem to have retained your magical knowledge,’ and that she had finished her OWLs, all Os, of course. So she was sorted, and she let the hat put her in Ravenclaw, this time. Inconspicuous was the goal; blue and bronze were better colours on her, anyways. She would join the sixth years after the summer, as she couldn’t very well reveal that she was far beyond even NEWT level.

After a couple of hours with him, and getting set up temporarily in one of the guest suites, Hermione had a killer headache. Only after locking and warding the door did she breathe a sigh of relief, and allow herself to panic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our poor characters spend a very lonely summer alone... but don't worry, school starts soon!

**SS**

Coming around the corner after him, the Marauders’ angry exclamations could be heard all the way to the Hospital Wing, where he had arrived moments before. He hadn’t actually disappeared, he had simply fallen into the floor, and stepped forward to arrive in the Hospital Wing. 

Thanking the castle with the proper gratitude, he walked up to Madam Pomfrey’s desk to wait for her. He could hear her fussing over a student behind a curtain. Scanning the room as per his habit, he noticed one of the beds had been recently vacated. A dark curly hair, and, strangely, what looked like the unprepared ingredients for Sleakeasy stood out against the white of the pillowcase.

It was unlike Poppy to leave a bed unmade, she must have been busy. With a flick of his wand, the sheets were stripped and flew to the basket of sheets to be laundered by the house-elves.

“...you’re to continue resting up until I return with your last round of Skele-Gro, young man.” Madam Pomfrey scoffed indelicately as she left a student to his cot. “Quidditch indeed. More like Bane-of-all-Mediwizards… ah, Mister Snape! Back so soon?” Her annoyed expression cleared when she noticed him, and the familiar sadness-concern-frustration look she always wore when speaking to him replaced it. 

He had forgotten that he had ‘already' been there that morning to reset his broken nose. He couldn’t count how many times that had happened. 

“Yes, Madam. No new injuries this time." He hesitated to continue, his mission to improve his health warring with his fear of her anger when she learned the full extent of his condition. 

"...I've come to the conclusion that I need to stop hiding things from you. It was very immature of me, especially since I know you suspected, and have always had all your students’ best interests at heart, even mine. I’m sorry.” Every word sincere. 

He had wronged her terribly over the years by refusing her help. It was freely given, and he knew it hurt her to see any human struggle. He was probably the one person who had hurt her the most in that regard, before.

“Oh, my boy. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m simply glad you have finally come to me.” A rare display of her soft side, tears gathered in her eyes. Shaking herself, she fell once again into her no-nonsense manner and directed him to his regular cot.

“I don’t know where to start, Madam. Is there a spell that will give you a detailed report of my physical condition? That would save a lot of time.” He sent a small, rueful smile her way, which she returned.

“Yes there is, and you know it. I’ve asked if I could perform it on you so many times I was almost tempted enough to throw ethics out the window and cast it on you in your sleep! Infuriating boy.” Her mock anger caused him to chuckle.

“I suppose I was afraid.”

“Nevermind that, child, you’re here now.” Her eyes held such warmth he nearly teared up himself. How blind he had been, thinking no one had cared for him. “This may tingle a bit,” she let him know, before raising her wand to his chest and murmuring  _ Vitalitas Prōfertṓte. _

Severus watched in amazement as a glowing projection separated itself from his skin to form a translucent copy of him. He had never been able to ask for her to perform it before, to maintain his cover, no one could know too much detailed information about him at all, even medical professionals. 

“We’ll start from the outside in, Mister Snape. Firstly, sensory perception.” His double, with a few flicks of her wand, opened its eyes and appeared to be reacting to various stimuli. The best thing about this spell was its non-invasive design. The next best being, of course, the data it spits out to hover in the air, detailed enough it would have most muggle doctors swooning. 

“Astigmatism! Surely you could have come to me earlier if you were having trouble seeing, of all things! I know how much you love your books. Nevermind child, it’s an easy enough fix, at your age.” She smiled as she watched his satisfied reaction to having his vision clear. “We’ll save you from frown lines yet.”

“Thank you, Madam.” His guilt at what she was soon to witness coloured his tone. 

“Otherwise, you seem to be in tip-top shape, if a little sensitive. Let’s proceed.” She went on to examine each of his ‘layers,’ noting his sensitive skin and scalp, and the fire in her eyes burned hotter each time she discovered a scar. When asked if he wanted a salve to help them fade, Severus refused politely. 

Past his skin, she muttered darkly to herself. “‘I’m fine’ he says. If this was fine I need to rewrite the books.” Turning to look him in the eye, she continued more professionally. 

“We have a lot of work to do, young man. Next to no body fat, underdeveloped muscles, undetected fractures that healed incorrectly, your nervous system is overworked, sleep deprivation, immune system is shot, and you’re malnourished enough that your body has begun consuming its own fat reserves, not that you have any to spare. I won’t pry as to how it’s gotten this bad over the years, but I’ll tell you right now, we will fix this. It’ll be a strict regimen for you from now on. Do you understand me?” She drew herself up to her full height, still a head shorter than him, and stared him down.

“Of course, Madam Pomfrey. I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t trust your counsel.” His easy acceptance served to soften her features.

“Alright then, let’s get to work.”

\--

**HG**

Hermione was told that she would spend the summer as a ward of Hogwarts, and she spent the next two weeks hiding from the student body in her temporary quarters until the year was out. She just couldn't bear to face those she knew in the future, nevermind those who were dead in the future, like Harry's parents.

After well and truly panicking for over a half-hour her first night, she had started to find it difficult to breathe, and recognized the symptoms of a panic attack. 

She was eventually grateful for the house-elf who arrived to give her some pajamas, and stayed to 'comfort young missy' despite her protests. After that night's rest, she felt much better, determined to find a way home and save the panicking for when it really mattered.

Moving into Ravenclaw tower was a wonderful distraction, after the first weeks of nothing but hiding alone with her thoughts. It had its own library! To her it was the most magical place she had ever witnessed in the castle, with shelves reaching from the ground floor to the very top of the tower, covering every wall. 

Spindly bronze ladders and platforms created a death-defying web to reach all the books and impossibly high comfy reading nooks created for maximum use of space and privacy. 

Having the tower to herself, she explored every nook and cranny, even discovering a secret Ravenclaw passage leading to the main Hogwarts library that looked like it had been carved out over hundreds of years by determined students who, understandably, wanted easy access to 'more books, dammit!'

Her best find, however, was what looked to be a former Ravenclaw’s research lab. The dust on all exposed surfaces was thick, and the majority of the dried specimens and cloudy jars full of who-knows-what were long past their usable dates, but once she’d cleaned it up, it was perfect. A space just for her and her research, her ticket home.

The Headmaster hadn’t been able to contain himself to their first session together, and requested that she meet with him regularly just in case more details of the future could be gleaned. Headaches galore, and her annoyance slowly rose to heights she had never expected it to go. It's a wonder the faculty haven't murdered him yet, she thought.

Of course, _his_ words were more along the lines of ‘discovering more details on what brought you here’, ‘for your safety’, etc. Oh well. He wasn’t going to get anything from her, especially if she ever wanted to get home again. 

Once Dumbledore finished perusing ‘what was left,’ of her memories of the future, or what she allowed him to see, he was quick to dismiss her as a non-resource. 

Thank Merlin for Hogwarts a History, for she was able to show him glimpses of only teachers that were faculty in both 1976 and her former timeline. Nothing that could reveal new or interesting information. She cast herself as a loner, too intellectual to have any friends, slightly alienating, as it was mostly true. 

Her friend group, in reality, hadn’t expanded too far past Harry and Ron, and Neville sometimes. She missed them terribly. Would she ever see them again? Would they still want to be her friend, now that she was so much older? They were so young, she hoped they'd be able to understand, if she ever got the chance to explain.

Now, in an empty castle with hours to herself, Hermione began to realize something new about herself. She understood the role of hormones in the body, however, the strength of her reaction to them was baffling. It's like a switch was flipped, somewhere between when she was aged to 16 and 17, and sex was never far out of mind. Was this how boys felt?

She caught herself, once, beginning to fantasize about the current groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures instructor, Silvanus Kettleburn, while staring out a window, just because he was in her line of sight! Eugh. She'd always had a thing for teachers, but not when they were over 60 years old!

With no friends to distract her, she began to more and more creatively 'fufill her own needs,' writhing under her own fingers more and more often to take her mind off of the potential futility of getting home.

\--

**SS**

The next month passed in a blur of physical therapy and exercise, a lengthy potions regimen that he volunteered to help brew to ensure Slughorn, the bumbling fool, didn’t poison him, and flitting through the halls as if he were a ghost, infuriating the Marauders at every turn, while still being conspicuously present for all their meals and classes. 

He also wasted a, frankly, _ridiculous_ amount of time catering to his renewed hormones, wanking until his wrist was sore. Stuffing a 33-year-old man in the body of a teenager was never going to end well in that regard. 

He had real memories of warm women underneath him through his adult years, twisted into every position imaginable, to fuel his fantasies now, and the continuous flood of hormones provided by his teenage physiology nearly knocked him out every time his mind drifted to them.

He found himself avoiding Lily, irrationally it seemed, and she was both proud that he and the terrible quartet had ‘finally laid their feud to rest,’ and suspicious that his avoiding her was connected to ‘his terrible housemates.’ 

He supposed they might have grown apart more naturally the first time around if he hadn’t said that terrible friendship-ending phrase. Now, though, it felt strange to even speak with Lily, like he was speaking to a student of his, or a younger sister. 

He tried not to think about it too hard, for he knew their friendship would always hold a place in his heart, and he was simply grateful that he hadn’t pushed her away, and wouldn’t cause her death this time around, if he could help it. 

He didn't know if he could live with himself if his hormones ever drove him to fantasize about her now. For the moment though, all his arousing thoughts stayed easily within the safe-memories zone, along with whatever zone holds the 'wow-I-forgot-that-one-apprentice-teacher-was-a-hot-piece-of-ass' thoughts.

Halfway into the month, school ended, and he was kept at Hogwarts by Madam Pomfrey until she was satisfied he no longer needed his potions. 

He then spent a very satisfying summer alternating between dosing his father with befuddlement potion and ‘fighting back’ against any physical abuse he attempted. By fighting back, he meant beating his father to just a hair away from being a bloody pulp.  The mixed martial arts he had practiced as a spy, and continued to keep up, were priceless. If his parents were surprised by his sudden change, neither mentioned it.

He felt not an ounce of remorse when his father was found both drunk and befuddled at work by a co-worker who he then promptly assaulted. After a mental assessment during which he may or may not have been under the influence of Veritaserum, Tobias Snape was deemed a danger to himself and others and tossed in a mental institution. 

A very clean job, all in all, Severus thought, inwardly patting himself on the back. 

The one good thing his father had ever done was something he hadn’t done, and that was to write a will. Not that the authorities would ever know, for they discovered his will just fine, leaving Mrs. Eileen Snape, now Ms. Eileen Prince, every ounce of life insurance, the house, and his ‘slush fund’ he had hidden from them for drinking and gambling as well. Severus was a dab hand at forgery, if he did say so himself.

All in all, it was a very productive summer, despite the frustration of the trace. Apparently, no matter how old you were mentally, the damnable trace was too simple a spell to measure any more than one’s physical age. Agh. 

He made sure to whinge about the loss of magic, loudly and often, over the whole summer in his hopes that his mother would pick it up again. 

Despite his efforts towards it, he was surprised when, the second week of August, she accompanied him to Diagon Alley to collect his school supplies. She hadn’t come with him since he was a first-year. She borrowed his wand to get them through the brick entrance, and the shine of steely determination in her eyes brightened even further. 

Handing it back to him, she nodded, and they continued onwards. They had never needed too many words to understand each other, and though she didn’t voice it, he knew their first stop would be Ollivanders.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying out longer chapters! I've realized I'm wordy af, and if we every wanna get this story moving, that's how it's gotta be! Hope you like it :)

**SS**

The ancient hinges of Ollivander's creaked a greeting as Severus and his mother entered.

“Ms Prince, what a pleasure to see you again,” Ollivander stated, his back still turned as they passed through the doorway. “I'm sorry for your loss, of your original wand. Black walnut, nine inches, rigi- My word!” his usual recital of each individual's wand characteristics was abruptly cut off when sparks flew from a wand box not two feet from his face. “I’m sorry my dear, but your son’s wand is practically screaming to get to him.”

“My wand, sir? It’s just here, in my hand.” Severus queried, slightly alarmed. 

“I think you’ll find, young man, that the wand you are holding is no longer yours. Rowan, 10 inches, rigid, dragon heartstring core, yes?” Ollivander asked without waiting for an answer, “A very protective wand, that, and it has decided that your mother is better suited to its nature now.”

Now that he thought about it, he realized that his wand had never worked for anyone else. It was terribly useful if he was disarmed in a fight, even if his opponent obtained it, there was no advantage to gain. But his mother had used it clear as day at the entrance to Diagon. He had dismissed it as a genetic similarity, but now it was clear. 

His wand had moved on. And perhaps it was fitting, for he had changed drastically in less than a moment, as far as this timeline was concerned. He felt a pang of loss that was quickly drowned out by how right it felt. His old wand would never be far, but it wanted to protect his mother now. He agreed wholeheartedly.

“Here, ma.” His smile came easily as he handed over the wand to its rightful master. During the revelation of his mother’s wand he had completely forgotten about his own until he smelled fire. His new wand seemed terribly impatient to get to him, and was rattling in its box, and apparently heating up enough to cause it to smoke.

“Blasted, demanding… I’m coming, I’m coming!” Ollivander seemed to be conversing with the wand, and after observing the wandmaker over the years, Severus wasn’t surprised. Playing hot-potato with himself, the elder man brought the box containing his wand over. The shaking and lessened to a low vibration as the wand neared it’s rightful partner. 

Severus raised an eyebrow as he looked closer at the box. It was decorated with a beautiful scene, set in Japanese inlay. It was one of the few times he had seen a wand box that was worth purchasing for more than just the wand inside. It couldn’t be Ollivander’s work; for all the man’s talent, he couldn’t be moved to apply it to anything other than his precious wands. 

“I can see you wondering, young man, let me tell you the story, as it is just as much a part of your wand as the wood itself. This wand was crafted by my sister, Geneveive Ollivander, and her husband. Now, you’ve likely never heard of her in these parts, as she was rather estranged from our parents, and the extended Ollivander family. She was 15 years my senior, and I therefore hardly knew her, as she had emigrated to Japan the day after her graduation from Hogwarts at 18. From the few letters I received, and reports I have gathered after she and her husband’s untimely deaths at 42 and 60, respectively, they were living legends there.

Her husband was not a wandmaker, however, his family cultivated the most prized wand wood in Asia. Cherry tree wood. Neither, at the time, were satisfied with their families' trades. She, because of my father’s ludicrous bias against women learning his trade; her husband understood too well. He had been shunned for bonding with a wand whose wood was not of the cherry tree, as his family had been chosen by cherry wands for countless generations.

They ran off in a whirlwind romance and delved deep into the field of elemental magics. He had an affinity for air and water magic, and she was his balance, with fire and earth magic burning in her blood.” Severus nodded, his own research confirming the Old Magics Ollivander explained. 

He knew that all humans were born an elemental affinity, and those who challenged themselves, especially during their youth, often developed a second. Most were never aware of them. He was pretty sure his innate one was air, with how sensitive he was, and fire secondarily, as he grew. 

Knowledge of such things had fallen into obscurity due to the sheer convenience of the non-elemental magics over the centuries, but he'd been curious.

As much as he hated Voldemort, and was sickened to think he may share an affinity with him, a spell he had learned from him, to become one with the air and soar on the wind without a broom, was wonderful. And not dark, surprisingly, though when Tom Riddle used it, he was so dark near the end he'd had to force the wind to his will and the shrieking gales it whipped up sounded like the screams of the dying.

His deep revulsion at the memory nearly made him miss the next words of Ollivander’s story.

“They travelled far and wide, and there are conflicting rumours in Morocco and the Bahamas, that they even discovered the lost city of Atlantis in their search for ancient knowledge. They were dubbed the twin Ho-o’s of Japan, after the phoenix-cousin creatures that are so sacred to the country, for their research contributions and preservation of the ancient ways.” His elderly voice grew reverent.

“When did they make this wand? And why?” Severus queried.

“No one knows for sure, however she left it to me in her will. I wonder if they had created it with plans for children. I was unsure if it would ever choose a wizard of its own, given the type of love that was so obviously poured into its creation. I’m honoured to witness the matching.” Ollivander’s eyes glittered strangely, but when didn’t they? 

Severus gave a quick bow-nod, acknowledging the significance. The wand, however, was growing impatient. It’s vibrating hum grew higher pitched and more insistent. Suddenly gripped by his old friend, paranoia, he hesitated to open the box.

“How did they die?” He didn’t want any unhappy ghosts tethered to him through his wand, or lingering curses.

“A heroes’ death. When the western world began to make demands of trade with Japan, though the wizarding communities were already connected, the muggles were causing quite a stir. The economy was destabilized and the country was vulnerable. A dark wizard had begun making his move in the shadows, hoping to overthrow the emperor and slaughter the muggle population, before closing the borders once again to all but wizardkind. You have heard of the term ‘kamikaze,’ from the Muggles' blasted war, yes?” 

His eyes were sad, and Severus’ heart ached for him, and the world’s loss of brilliant mages. “They took out 80% of the gathered dark forces single-handed, along with their leader. The rest scattered. It was officially classified as a volcanic eruption, but the magical community remembers.” 

Severus’ paranoia abated, and he let the pull he felt towards his wand take over. Running callused fingers over the inlay, the hum warmed his hand. A feeling of homecoming filled him even as he opened the box, when, apparently impatient, the wand leapt into his grasp as if he had summoned it. 

Severus was stunned. He never imagined a wand could be so emotional, but there it was, joy radiating directly from the wand, feeding his own. It must have been lonely. He found himself taking large, steadying breaths as the force and depth of emotion rocked through him. 

Oh, he wanted to tell Poppy about it. How she would smile as she explained what he wouldn’t have normally known at 15, how the brain often closed off emotional channels after repeated abuse. It was to protect the body’s necessary functions, for survival. 

In magical folk, the blockages were often more solid, as the magical core reacts strongly to emotion, and can even be damaged if it goes too far. In the best cases, much like the brain can grow new cells if in an optimal environment, those blockages can heal. Madame Pomfrey had done a marvelous job. 

Tears gathering in his eyes, he smiled widely, never having imagined that some emotions could be even more powerful than how he already perceived them.

“Oh Severus, it’s beautiful! He looked up from the wand to see that a firework had burst from it, in the coiling form of an oriental dragon, reminding him of the Weasley Twins’ creations. He’d have to be sure to invest in their exploits this time around.

“Cherry, eleven inches, swishy, dragon heartstring core. A powerful wand, and intricately carved as well, seamlessly inlaid with bonsai wood at the handle. Her husband’s work, he was a master woodworker. I…” Ollivander trailed off after explaining. 

Spy instincts took over, and before he even consciously recognized it, he had catalogued the man’s body language, facial expression and the pulse point jumping at his throat. Severus' elation derailed violently in favour of calculation. The man’s face had shown his worry for a moment, and his pulse remained high. Something on his mind then, hmm? 

“It’s a shame bonsai trees don’t provide enough wood for a full wand. So much ancient tradition, growing in unlikely places, it wouldn’t surprise me if a full bonsai wand would seek a wizard similar to the vine wood wands’ preference,” the wandmaker continued. “Speaking of, you’ll let me know if you spot a vinewood wand out of it’s box, won’t you? I had just finished making it a few months back, lovely combination, vine and dragon’s heartstring, and I went to allow a young man to try it, but it was already gone, vanished! Ah well, I suppose my age would have to catch up at some point, yes?” 

Severus’ eyes narrowed imperceptibly. As lighthearted as Ollivander had made his request, Severus knew it disturbed him deeply to lose a wand. 

Age wasn’t a convincing excuse either, knowing how sharp Garrick remained even in the future. He didn’t recall any Death Eaters who ever wielded a vine wand, or used one as an unregistered back-up. Ruling that out as the most pressing potential threat, he was able to put it out of his mind for the moment.

As they paid for the wand, he shook himself, trying not to let the resurfacing of his war-sharpened habits drag him back into the quagmire of constant paranoia. Using the warmth of the wand still in his hand to ground himself, the muscles of his shoulders relaxed, and he breathed easier again. And immediately regretted it, as they exited the shop.

Of all days, why today! The terrible tetrad. Before he had even taken in their expressions as they spotted each other, he had sent a plea to every deity he knew of in hopes that they wouldn’t cause a scene in front of his mother. He had managed to convince her, after his first year, that his personal squad of bullies had mellowed into mere annoyances. 

She wouldn’t have been able to bear the idea that there was nowhere he felt safe. School had been her refuge, and she had been endlessly grateful for the assumption that it was also his when she felt she couldn’t keep him safe at home.

Surely they wouldn’t be so foolish as to start anything in public. Now, he felt actual gratitude to the fuckery that was the Ministry. The trace would force any altercation into safer territory, he hoped.

“You break your wand, Snivellus?” Target acquired, Black wasted no time. Severus moved in front of his mother. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, and he wondered if his antics leading them on endless wild-goose chases at the end of the year would be the tipping point for the dog. Would he cross the line? 

“No, though Ollivanders isn’t the place to be to getting  _ your _ broken ‘wand’ examined. St. Mungo’s might be more appropriate.” Severus replied, lowly. It was a nasty jab, and Severus hated that it was expected from him, that it was their pattern. 

But he couldn’t break it now, he daren't. It would only cause them to be suspicious. He hoped it wouldn’t escalate things. The muscles in his back, thankfully out of sight, spasmed, wanting to flich. He didn’t let them, as always.

“Hah! He’s got your number there, Padfoot!” Remus, in an unusual display of boldness, broke in. The wolf had clearly spotted his mother, and while the others were oblivious, he at least had enough awareness and respect for his elders to try and throw his friends off the ‘hunt,’ going by the way his eyes shifted past Severus’ shoulder. 

His comment sent James Potter into gales of laughter, so there was likely an inside joke or some truth to it. In the few moments that they were distracted, he corralled his mother as fast as he could without making a spectacle, into the nearest shop, Gambol and Jukes. Before the Weasley twins, it was this shop that supplied many a young prankster, and it was suitably busy enough for them to escape notice. His mother shot him a confused look, and he explained,

“I wouldn’t have you subjected to their vulgarity, ma. Not if I can help it. They’re just a pack of blowhards, but it can be disturbing to witness.” After a few minutes of amusing her by showing the new products, and after years away from the wizarding world, she was quietly impressed, even if it was just jokes and trinkets. 

The rest of their day, after their successful escape, went smoothly, and he nearly shuddered in pleasure to finally receive his custom-ordered robes and uniform from Madam Malkins'. He hadn’t originally discovered the acromantula-silk blend fabric until after the war, but he saw no reason not to indulge himself.

His robes were a safety blanket of sorts, the fabric’s texture soothing to his sensitive skin, and the billow unmatched, to satisfy his dramatic, love-of-shock-factor sensibilities. Not to mention charmed to remain completely inert and protective around potions. He’d taken to utilising the same for his undershirt, to line his frock coat, and even for his boxers. 

It was one of his few pleasures, but he forced himself to draw the line when he began to ache for it as bedsheets, in the years that the Potter boy had arrived to terrorize him. No double agent worth his salt could afford to be comfortable in bed, so vulnerable. He suffered his scratchy, irritating sheets so he could never sleep too deeply, not that his insomnia let him, anyways. 

The cobbler’s hadn’t yet finished his dragonhide boots, but they would arrive by owl-order before he left for school. For the first time, Severus felt prepared. 

Slogging through classes that he had already attended was not how he preferred to spend his time, but he wasn’t about to draw attention to himself by challenging his NEWTs or something similar. He’d just have to entertain himself reading, or perhaps developing the animation charm he’d wished to make as a first year, before doodling became a liability. Otherwise, in terms of plans, he was at a bit of a loss. 

Once he’d bested the Marauders once and for all and convinced the student body that he was no longer the greasy git they assumed him to be, what then? Not that the latter would be an easy feat, it might even take up most of the year. Hmm. He'd have to come back to it later, once he’d sussed out how the climate would be at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Also, I wonder where that wand went? Hmm... ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The welcoming feast! And we get to peek at Hermione's research! Terribly exciting business, this is ;)

**HG**

Hermione Granger was also feeling prepared, if a bit shaky. 

She had thrown herself into research on her situation, exhausting the library and Ravenclaw Tower quickly, and when no solution came up, she turned to even the Restricted Section, exhausting its resources after learning the password from a particularly righteous portrait in the common room, a former Ravenclaw, who made it his 'life's' mission to remove all obstacles to knowledge and spied on Madam Pince constantly. 

Finally, about halfway through the summer, she allowed herself to grieve for the life she’d lost, the friends and family. 

Or she tried to anyways. She eventually went back to avoiding the pain of it, telling herself in an almost obsessive mantra that her knowledge of a possible future could save many lives. 

Whatever brought her to this time had erased that future immediately, without remorse, for time knew no such thing. It’s not like she could avoid changing things at this point, so why not embrace it? She hadn’t lost her youth training for against Voldemort for nothing, afterall.

Hermione no longer felt the urgency and righteousness that pushed her to run along mostly willingly with the boys’ harebrained schemes. She would work behind the scenes instead, using her neutrality as a Ravenclaw with ‘ambiguous’ blood status to hopefully discover who the Death Eater hopefuls were and keep an eye out, and more. 

Even if, Circe forbid, her changes were for naught in terms of the current battle against his reign of terror, she could make sure there would be no resurrection attempts for the future Voldemort, this time. She had years to research what he had tried in her first years of Hogwarts, what he might try. 

She could do years. And maybe, if she didn’t allow herself to slow down, she wouldn’t have to dwell on the loss.

There was no reason to change her name, for as far as she could understand from her research and observations, another Hermione Granger would never be born. It could be as simple as her parents having a different name for their child, or that the child wouldn’t be born magical. 

She hoped they would still conceive, but there was nothing she could do but watch. Her wand had likely disappeared from Ollivanders as it was intact, thank the gods, and the resources for making the clothes on her back had likely killed a few young cotton plants. She had a hard time summoning the energy to feel bad about the wand

To her embarrassment, Sleakeasy’s hair product hadn’t even been thought of yet, and her hair had frizzed out of it’s more manageable curls into the mess of un-hydrated kinks she remembered from her first year without her notice, and she pulled the ingredients out of her hair for hours after leaving the Hospital Wing. A leaf here, a seed there. 

Thank goodness it was plant based. She didn’t want the ancestors of animals used in many potions crawling on her, or worse. If she had been allergic to holly, the recipe would be adapted with Occamy feathers, and that could’ve been messy.

She began brewing her own hair product in the abandoned lab, tweaking the ingredients here and there. A few risks sent her scurrying for cover, but in the end, she was happier with her version. 

The faculty had warmed up to her quickly, and Professor McGonagall had taken her shopping to replace the essentials of what she had lost in time. She missed her book collection the most out of everything though, and that was irreplaceable. 

Hermione adopted a more non-muggle, traditional wizarding style, and appreciated the craftsmanship, even if she did feel more formal than she was accustomed to. She wondered if she could find an outdoor cloak that billowed as well as Professor Snape’s robes had, that would add some fun. Perhaps in a nice navy, instead of black.

And there was another adjustment. Thinking of Severus Snape as technically younger than her, even if they were to be in the same year, turned her head. Thinking of any of her classmates-to-be, actually. Of course she had to be placed in the same year as Harry’s parents. Not to mention the other Marauders. 

She didn’t know how she would handle seeing them, especially that fucking rat Peter. She already planned to avoid them as well as she could anyways, it was just too painful. Thank goodness Ravenclaws had most classes with the Hufflepuffs.

The rest of the summer had passed in a plur of plotting, organizing and research. Everything was as ready as she could make it. The variables would be the people around her, but hopefully they wouldn’t throw her too badly. 

Every stitch of her uniform in place, hair in an unassuming braid, she sat beside Professor Sprout as the students arrived, unable to resist applying a light Notice-Me-Not. She focused on breathing as youthful-familiar faces appeared. 

A spear pierced her heart as she saw just how similar James Potter was to Harry. Harry, who may never exist, because she was here. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. There was nothing she could do, the butterfly effect had already flapped its wings, direct interference or not. 

Sirius was terribly handsome in comparison to the skeleton he had become in Azkaban, and Professor Lupin seemed to have grown into his self-confidence more as an adult, his guarded stance reminding her that she’d be attending classes with a werewolf again, and the full moon on the 8th was fast approaching. _Too bad you're avoiding them, _whispered her libido, which she quickly silenced, or tried to. 

She barely deigned to glance at Pettigrew, in an attempt to keep her instinctual rage contained. 

Oh! There were no other words to describe Lily, only ‘beautiful’ would do. Her rare eyes and hair left Hermione feeling plain in her shades of brown, which she told herself was a good thing, in the end. Standing out was the last thing she wanted.

The last students trickled into the hall, and Hermione witnessed something that brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

Snape was  _ hot. _

\--  


**SS**

Severus had studiously ignored the seemingly endless stream of gossip-mongers that passed his carriage on the train, appearing absorbed in his reading. He assumed his hair had something to do with it. 

A wizard, somehow even more intensely homosexual than even Dumbledore, had taken one look at him in the streets of Diagon Alley, and whisked him into his hair salon. A panicked glance at his mother told him she was already won over by a charming shop assistant and would be no help, so he submitted himself to what would apparently be the wizard’s ‘masterpiece, darling.’ 

His hair had grown over the summer, and it was now nearing Malfoy-territory, despite the trim. He had been instructed that the cut was designed to be worn half-up for the most part, both for his expressed need of practicality, and the ridiculous man told him he would appear ‘too sexy for a schoolboy’ if he had it down in public. 

The latter statement was utterly preposterous, but as the half-up option suited his preference, he went along with it. 

Admittedly, he was feeling more confident than ever before, but it was simply the fact that he was now free to show his awkward features to their best advantage, with the knowledge of decades supporting it. He was tall, and now nearly as strong and fluid as he was while a spy, due to consistent training over the summer, so he simply used his impeccable posture to emphasize it. 

His nose was still huge, but bringing it back into alignment with Poppy made it fit his intense features a bit better. Of course there was the hair, the health, the new robes. But in the end, he was the same ugly git he’d always been. The most anyone could say about him now was that he was unique. 

What he didn’t understand was why there needed to be so many giggling gaggles of gossips. Surely, one was enough to report back and spread the gossip throughout the entire student body, but he was sure he even spotted some of them multiple times! 

He liked their initial shock, but were the changes he’d made really so unbelievable they had to come back to verify it? He supposed shock was a funny thing, it presented itself in many different ways, including laughter, or giggles, in this case. Satisfied with his conclusion, he settled into his reading for the rest of the ride. 

Arriving in the Great Hall off the last couple of carriages, he strode purposefully to the Slytherin table to await the Sorting Hat’s welcome, scanning the room. It was important for him to be completely neutral while in such a public place. Keeping his eyes trained on the Sorting Hat, he sat to wait in silence. 

Thank Merlin he was late, an excuse to sit with the second-years who wouldn’t dare start a conversation with him. The Sorting was over quickly, and he remembered it had been a lean year for incoming first years, due to the political climate, many parents on both sides had opted to home-school.

\--

**HG**

Hermione’s argument that introducing her to the whole school at once would be too disruptive seemed to hold up, but she knew to expect it in class. Nevertheless, she quite enjoyed her meal, spent in lively discussion with Professors McGonagall and Sprout. 

Professor Sprout, in particular, had developed a grandmotherly attitude towards her, and had held her many a time while she cried out her losses. ‘The ones she could remember’ anyways, keeping with her story. 

She had also been the one to encourage her to seek Madame Pomfrey’s aid with resizing her buck teeth. As much as is had felt like a betrayal of her dentist parents, it was also one of her greatest insecurities. In the end, she felt much better for it.

It was a struggle not to stare about the hall, or at Snape in particular. What had happened between now and the possible future? 

Not that his elder self was that bad, honestly, but this Snape looked, well, healthy. His hair was beautiful, and not pin-straight, as she had assumed. It looked, as silly as the thought was, like he was some other-worldly, severe, dark elf, straight out of a Tolkien novel, crossed with a Roman emperor. Seeing him in the school uniform nearly cause her to choke with her surprised bark of laughter. Oh how the tables have turned.

He still moved with the unnatural grace she recognized, and she wanted to hear him speak, to verify if his voice had always been the silky rumble he possessed in the future.

No-one could call him classically handsome, but his strange combination of severity and grace gave him presence, gravity. Surely there had to be some reason why he’d seemed so sickly and exhausted as her Professor. He’d had presence then too, but more from the fear he struck. 

Oh well, she mused, a puzzle for another day. She had enough on her plate without him.

She let her professors know that she would be turning in for the night, and made her way to Ravenclaw tower, crawling into bed after her nerve-wracking day, murmuring greetings and excuses to the one roommate who was already there. She drew and warded the curtains around her bed, as had become her habit, and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated!
> 
> The first sighting! But will they recognize each other as fellow time travellers? Snape, after all, is supposed to be there! 
> 
> P.S. - Should the hairdresser have a name?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we've all been waiting for ;)

**SS**

Though Severus had braced for a confrontation between himself and the Mauraders, none came, the prior evening.

Lupin must have convinced them not to, as the first day of classes would be exhausting enough without adding ‘fun’ into the mix. He, of course, already knew what his schedule would be, and was excited to have a few classes without them. 

After his morning swim, aided by a multitude of protection and warming charms; one could never be too careful in the Black Lake; he finished his breakfast before most of the castle had even woken.

Oh, how wonderful to have an appetite again! Instead of the weak stomach he'd dealt with in his adulthood, brought on by too many stress ulcers.

Drifting through his classes, he practiced mental exercises instead.

He mapped out a potion’s matrix in his head, visualizing how each ingredient, how it was chopped, when it was added, the temperature at the time, the stirs needed between each step, and materials like the cauldron and stirring rod, even the knives, would interact with all the others.

In the end, he wished he could pull it out of his head, as it would make an impressive sculpture. Perhaps a new charm…

He felt the glares from the back of the classroom burning the back of his head, and knew the Gryffindor boys would come for him before the week was out. 

Potions was a slog, Transfiguration a bore, and Astrology, completely useless, as he had already lived through the movements of the planets for the next many years. Tuesday, however, brought a more exciting elective class, Ancient Runes, in which he needed not see neither hide nor hair of the irritating dunderheads that plagued the rest of the school.

He now had a study period, so he lazed his way to the library, hoping he could persuade Madam Pince to allow him a tome or two from the restricted section. He vaguely remembered that some of them had been removed over time, and he hadn’t had a chance to read them, even as a teacher. Forbidden knowledge is the very best kind.

\--

**HG**

Hermione was panicking. She had found her favourite hidden nook in the library to study, wrapping herself in Disillusionment, Silencing, and Notice-Me-Not charms out of habit, when in strolled Snape!

She was completely cornered, so, thinking fast, she wedged herself underneath the table, as close to the wall as she could squeeze, hardly daring to breathe. She couldn't face his young self, not now, not in her safe spot!

She needn’t have bothered, however, for he chose to prop his back against the shelves and sit on the floor, long legs extended out in front of him. From the cover of the table and her charms, she stared unabashedly, and nearly choked on her sharp intake of breath as he started to hum while perusing the tome he had selected. 

He had a beautiful, rich singing voice, which didn’t surprise her, mind-blowing as the fact that he would hum absently at all was. It sounded similar to Billy Joel’s _ Allentown, _ but that hadn’t come out until 1982, so it couldn’t be.

He looked so relaxed, she wondered if the Professor Snape she knew was even the same person as the Snape in front of her. He turned the book’s pages as gently as she always did, and the combination of his humming, the rustle of the pages, and the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping very well, made her truly drowsy as her heartbeat calmed. 

Therefore, it was a bit of a shock when he suddenly leapt to his feet an hour later, in a fluid motion that sent her reeling, almost cracking her head on the underside of the table in surprise. It was like he was only getting up so violently because he could, for she sensed no urgency from him as he calmly walked away, still humming.

Calming her heart rate, her confusion and frustration with Snape grew.

\--

**SS**

Realizing he was actually looking forward to brushing up on his Ancient Runes put a pep in Severus’ step, and he arrived early to class. During his apprenticeship to become a Potions Master, he had begun to look into the application of Runes in the field, before the demands of his two masters took over.

What would change, if he prepared poisonous ingredients that were fermented in a vessel bearing runes for health, instead of a plain jar? The possibilities were endless.

So deep was he in his thoughts, he failed to notice the rest of the students’ arrival. Bathsheda Babbling, looking much less ancient, despite the subject she mastered in, called for attention, and he looked to the front of the class.

As he registered what was in front of him, he felt as if he’d short-circuited. Not a double take, but a realization that screamed through the shock turning his perception of time to molasses.

“Granger!?” It was out of his mouth before his mind could catch up with the impossibility of the situation.

In disbelief, he watched as she tried to hide her terrified surprise, and settled for freezing with a half-formed ‘innocent’ expression on her face. Holy gods, it _ was _ her! He scrambled for a way to smooth over his outburst as the rest of the class looked between them, like sharks circling for the next piece of gossip.

“Snape! You never told me you went to Hogwarts! I had assumed you were a student at Durmstrang when we met in Greece over the summer, what a surprise.” To his ever-growing consternation, she beat him to it, neatly tucking away the reason for his recognizing her in a vague statement that provided him with an opening to solidify their story.

A pleading look flashed across her face, and he decided he’d figure out what the bloody hell was going on after both the class and the disaster of his outburst were over.

“It must have slipped my mind. I was merely there visiting family. We’re both at fault, I hadn’t an inkling from you about your transfer here. Shall we continue this after class? I believe we’ve disrupted enough.” Pleased with the steadiness of his response, and the fact that no one knew him well enough to disbelieve that he had family in Greece, his turmoil lessened a fraction.

Inwardly, however, he was screaming. How in every universe could she even exist here? She wasn’t even born yet! Ravenclaw?

\--

**HG**

He recognized her?! What in the fresh hell was _this_?

He couldn’t be the same man that knew her, it was more than impossible, it was entirely unfathomable! Not a single person she had recognized from her past had recognized her in return, how could they? She would never even be born in this timeline.

It couldn’t be Polyjuice, unless he’d discovered a modification that allowed him to appear as exactly himself, yet younger, but why a sixth-year?! Why was he pretending to be a student again? Why were they the only ones, as far as she knew, that were flung into the past?

\--

**SS**

Severus recognized her telltale signs of internal struggle as Miss Granger was presented to the class, and was only slightly relieved to know their confusion was mutual.

Nothing about their situation made sense, and as of just a few minutes ago, he’d started to entertain the idea that he was dead, or in some kind of lucid-dream-coma. However, even dead or injured, there was no way his brain could come up with something as ludicrous as Granger’s arrival.

Ravenclaw? And she hardly looked like herself, not as he had known her as his student. She was older? He knew there were many aging potions, but why was she in 6th year? She’d just barely finished her 3rd year, for Merlin’s sake!

Yes, the sheer ridiculous impossibility of this entire moment disproved his being-actually-dead theory quite quickly, unless he was in hell, and his personal torture demons we're fucking bat-shit crazy, and too goddamn creative!

Were _more_ random students from his past going to keep popping up?! He fiercely hoped not!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, our usually level-headed faves sure got knocked on their asses!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up any confusion:  
Severus and Hermione are both in 1975, having traveled back in time at the same moment from the summer after Hermione's 3rd year, in 1994, as Hermione mentions to Dumbledore in Chapter 3. Hermione has been aged by her abuse of the time turner to the age of 17, but couldn't reveal that she had already challenged her NEWTs, so is posing as a sixth-year.

**HG**

She wasn’t sure about Professor Snape, but if his reaction was anything like hers, neither of them had heard a word the teacher said for the entire class, still reeling and in shock, lost in their thoughts and what-ifs.

She was counting the minutes until the class was over, and she found herself once again craving her time turner. She felt trapped, slow, and stuck on the train of linear time, ordinary and useless. 

Hermione knew, the cravings, if she let them, could be dangerous, however much she wanted the freedom and power to flit through time like a hummingbird dipping it’s beak into endless flowers, never slowing. There were moments when she resented ever being given the device, though she’d never erase the experiences she gained. 

Her once only-slightly-abnormal mind had definitely bent further out of shape, in terms of classical sanity. She wasn’t sure if it was obvious to others, but her once organized library of memories and experiences had shifted into something more resembling Hogwarts, with its ever-changing layout and rooms that weren’t always rooms, secret passageways and a library where the books sometimes screamed at you, or changed places on their own. 

Many books were screaming, at the moment.

Finally, she belatedly noticed the other students packing up their things, and rushed to organize herself, when she realized she hadn’t even taken out her textbook for class, so deep was her shock. She caught Professor Snape’s eye and gave a meaningful nod, hoping he would get the hint and follow her. 

Her heart rate ratcheted up steadily as she sidestepped into an unused classroom and began warding it, keying in the Professor to allow him through. Breathing slow and steadily to calm herself, she turned around to witness him dart quickly through the doorway. 

He was absolutely silent, and she watched as he drew himself up to his full height, his face portraying a youthful version of his trademark scowl, and began examining the wards. He added a layer she had never seen, before turning to her. 

She froze under the weight of his gaze, and they stayed locked in a silent stand-off, until, surprisingly, the Professor sagged, and ran a hand over his face. 

“Miss Granger, have a seat.” His utterly overwhelmed tone shocked her, but she sat nonetheless. He flopped into a seat across from her, actually flopped! He seemed to be searching for something to say. “Before we even begin to discuss our coinciding predicaments, I feel there is a need to amend how we interact with each other.” She nodded, waiting. “I…Well, all you need to know is that I was a spy for the Order.” 

His tone said it was nothing special, but the revelation was almost a physical impact for Hermione, who swayed subtly backwards in her seat. 

“And because there is no way I will ever allow myself to be entangled with Voldemort or Dumbledore again, I will never be your professor again. Thank Merlin for that. I wasn’t cut out for teaching, you know. I will not apologize for who I was and what I had to do to maintain my cover, however, I will say I am very glad I no longer have to. Therefore, I believe the pattern of our previous interactions should be broken, moving forward. Mutual respect, shall we say?”

Hermione, no matter how shocked she was feeling, jumped to agree.

“Of course sir, I’ve always respected you.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve noticed.” He noticed! Why did that make her so happy? “But I’ll ask you to drop the sir, I doubt I will ever choose to be in a position of authority again, after my experiences. You don’t have to like me, I don’t have to like you, just mutual respect as we try to determine why the fuck both of us are here.” He sounded defeated. “What was your experience?”

Hermione blinked, still reeling, before she launched into an explanation of her version of the day they had both left 1994, her arrival in 1975, research, her lies to Dumbledore, and plans to change the war behind the scenes. 

Snape's eyes widened almost comically when she pointed out that the Time Turner that had aged her had also been the reason for Black’s escape. 

“... My best theory before today had been that my overuse of the turner destabilized my position in linear time, and some unknown catalyst tied me to this new timeline instead. But as far as I know, you hadn’t been abusing a Time Turner, correct? So my theory is moot.” She shrugged, not as distressed as she usually might have been, when disproving one of her own theories, as it felt good to talk to someone about it, at least.

“Miss Granger, I realize that this accident has been a great loss to you, and I would willingly go back and make sure it never happened, if I was able to, but I feel that, as a wizard, I must be truthful in this. I am, personally, ecstatic to be here.” A boyish grin tugged at the sides of his mouth. “Whatever caused this has given me more than my youth. This time, I didn’t hurt and lose the one friend I had in the world, and I was able to save my mother from an untimely death. I have many, many regrets from our past timeline which I was ready to die for or spend the rest of my life atoning for, that no longer need to happen.”

“I’m happy for you, Snape. And it’s Granger or Hermione, the “miss” will just confuse people. Technically, I’m older than you, you know!” She tried to cover the grief in her voice with her genuine delight at their strange reversal. 

“How did it get so bad, if I may ask?” He leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped loosely in front of him. Hermione was surprised, and not for the first time, by his politesse, and now, genuine curiosity, a near 180 to his previous demeanor of 1994.

“It started as a way to get more sleep. And then I realized I literally had all the time in the world, for sleeping, or more important things, like studying more to help Harry against, well, let’s call him Tom, shall we? The You-Know-Who business is frankly ridiculous. Where was I? Oh yes, the turner. Can I be honest?” Snape nodded, and she could see in his eyes that he already had a guess as to what she was about to say. “I became an addict. There are very few moments in the day that I don’t crave it.”

“Very similar to the Dark Arts. Chronomancy is grey magic, not dark necessarily, but incredibly powerful. I understand the constant pull of it.” He nodded pensively. “Do you experience any withdrawal symptoms?”

“Yes, though they are much improved. I fear the main strain has been mental.”

“It will be a constant battle all your life, though I will say that you are fortunate to be in this timeline for at least one reason. The Time Turners of these next couple decades have a nasty habit of exploding after their first use, to dangerous to be tempting, and also inaccessible to even manipulative bastards like Dumbledore. Giving one of the most powerful magical tools in the world to a _child_? He was delusional to imagine that you’d make it out unaffected.” The venom in his voice as he spoke of the Headmaster surprised her, though there were times she felt the same way. 

They lapsed into silence, and Hermione’s mind was racing, turning over and examining all the new information this meeting had brought.

She rather thought he was devastated that someone who remembered who he was in their past had shown up. It had clearly lifted an immense weight off of his shoulders, being here. She’d do what she could to make sure her presence wouldn’t disrupt that

“I think we’re done here for the moment. Shall we reconvene, say, Friday during dinner?” He straightened up. Hermione hurried to nod, when his face turned sheepish and she froze once again at witnessing his expressivity in contrast to the blank mask he had worn in her memory. 

“I’m not proud of it, but you may soon witness what I hope is to be the end of some foolishness that plagued me for years. Growing up, I was the consistent target of a relentless group of boys, ‘the Mauraders’ they call themselves. I was too immature and insecure to properly report it as a child, and my attitude did nothing to discourage them. However, I feel as if I owe myself, or perhaps my younger self, some retribution. 

"Four on one is a cowardly ratio, but they persisted until my fighting back became too much for them, six and seventh year. So, I can safely assume, by demonstrating that I am indeed ‘too much for them’ during our next confrontation, they will back off, and in the best case, we may move on to being acquaintances, eventually. I can admit that some of them have the potential to be half-decent men. Ah, I can see from your face that you recognize them.”

“Can you go less easy on the rat? I’ve been wanting to watch him writhe.” Was Hermione’s only answer, and the speed of it paired with her deadpan tone seemed to hit Snape as hilarious, and he threw his head back in surprised laughter. 

She couldn’t help her answering smile, despite the fact that witnessing her former Professor's deep laugh made something within her feel very fragile, all of a sudden. 

“My sentiments exactly, Hermione.”

\--

**SS**

Severus made his way down to his dorm room with the intention of closing his bed curtains and not coming out until he had fully processed his new reality. He didn’t register those he passed on the way, nor any of the twists and turns he made, but he found himself in bed, and in shock. What just happened?

He’d attempted to pull his former persona out to deal with Miss Granger, but it was like trying to fit into a badly-tattered, too-small shirt, not enough fabric to cover him. The speed with which he had broken and become a Slytherin antithesis astounded him. 

Not only had he been  _ straightforward,  _ he’d been  _ honest _ as well! He shuddered at his weakness, before deciding to pin it on the sheer incredibility of the situation, and Miss Granger’s disarming openness and established respect.

The fact that he’d laughed in front of her was simply a bout of hysteria, nothing more, nothing less. She had obviously grown up, more than just her physical age; practically encouraging him to break the rules and duel, against her former house no less, rather than running to a teacher as she would have in the past. 

His eyebrow twitched at the memory of her sincere wish to harm Pettigrew and he had to purse his lips to keep from chuckling again. He’d have to make sure she was able to witness their confrontation, or let her see his memory of it. 

His mood sobered immediately as he thought to her ‘disproved’ theory that her use of the time turner was the catalyst for their travel back in time. From what he remembered from the roof, they had been the only ones outside the castle the day they appeared in the past, and her loose grasp on linear time, and strong emotions towards Chronomancy at the time could easily triggered the event. 

Why he was carried along with her, that was more difficult to theorize.

Perhaps, his affinity towards air had something to do with it. It was one of the more rare predispositions, and not because less magical beings were born with it, but because of the traits that went along with it. 

The high levels of sensitivity to magic and emotions often drove air-disposed individuals insane. Now that he thought on it, it was a likely candidate for the source of the Dark Lord’s madness. Surrounding himself in darkness likely broke his soul long before Tom Riddle first killed. 

Many magical children didn’t survive to go to Hogwarts when ‘cursed’ with an air affinity, for their accidental magic outbursts were often uncontrollable in the worst cases, fueled by the magic and emotions of those around them.

The wards of the school had likely kept any residual energies from Hermione’s use of the turner contained, but they’d built up. He’d had his guard down, so his receptivity to those residual magics and her outburst was high. 

Now that he thought on it, he wondered if it had been his presence that landed them where they did, anchoring them at a key turning point in his personal timeline. 

Who knows how far back and lost Miss Granger may have gotten otherwise! ‘Terrible things happen to those who meddle with time’ and all that rot. 

He wondered if he should share his thoughts on the matter. Would she hate him?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very Hermione chapter ;)

**HG**

Waking up the morning after the revelation that she was not alone in this timeline, Hermione experienced a jarring echo of shock that nearly convinced her to stay in bed, and not leave until the world started spinning the correct direction again. 

Thank goodness her fellow Ravenclaws could recognize a loner when they saw one; she’d not had to get chatty with anyone past an initial greeting so far. 

It wasn’t until she was standing under her shower that she decided she was angry with Snape. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she was. Maybe it was because he had changed so drastically, and she didn’t know why, or if it was real. She hated not knowing. 

Scrunching her face up as she pushed forward under the shower, it was only because her eyes were closed that she could admit some of her animosity was due to the confusing effect he seemed to have on her, now. 

The only thing worse than not knowing was realizing something had changed in her perception of him, yet not understanding what it was.

At this point, her tolerance for shock seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds, for she was able to put it behind her with a sigh as she finally left Ravenclaw tower. 

On to the more pressing issue; why it was them specifically who had travelled back in time. She couldn’t get her original idea out of her head, she kept circling back to it no matter what hypothesis she tried to consider. 

She had been unmoored in time, she was sure of it. Perhaps Professor Snape had been feeling particularly ill or weak, susceptible to wild magic, when the Time Event -as she was now calling their time travel in her head- occurred? 

Was it her fault he was dragged along, and should she even apologize? He seemed happy enough with the turnout. What conclusions was Snape drawing? Friday couldn’t come soon enough. 

She was mentally working out the chart she’d use to compare their experiences when they met on Friday, when she was suddenly surrounded. 

“Here she is! The new Ravenclaw.” Hermione looked up to see the voice had come from a girl she hadn’t met, and blinked rapidly to keep from averting her eyes when she saw that beside the girl, was Lily Evans. 

Before she could open her mouth to greet them, the girl to her right launched into a stream of rapid-fire questions. Hermione felt like she had suddenly forgotten how to be human, being so violently pulled to the present, to the front of her mind, by their presence. 

“So, you’re from Beauxbatons, right? Why’d ya transfer? I’m Mary MacDonald, what’s your name again? Minnie? When did you meet Snape? Was it a summer fling? No, it wouldn’t have been. Are you liking Hogwarts?” Mary leaned forward expectantly. She was the kind of girl that looked so excitable she might knock herself over. All Hermione could do was stutter out a weak response.

“A-amnesia? There was an accident?” She cringed at the sound of her own voice, her anxiety causing her to turn statements into questions.

“Ooh, you poor thing! I’m Marlene Mckinnon, by the way.” Said the first girl. Hermione’s insides withered with the realization that all the girls in front of her were either dead or missing in her time. She hoped she could help enough that their fates would be changed.

“Hermione Granger. It’s nice to meet you all.” Hermione was pleased with the steadiness of her second try. “I’m sorry, I can’t say my meeting Snape was very eventful, we just got to talking in a bookstore in Greece, in their wizarding city. I was waiting to find out if I had a potential guardian in Turkey, and he was visiting family.”

“It’s just Sev, girls! Why is everyone so obsessed with him nowadays? I’m Lily Evans, one of the Gryffindor prefects. You can ask me if you don’t know your way around or something, kay? Let’s go, girls, before the good seats are taken!”  Why did she have a nickname for Snape, and why would Lily feel the need to use it in front of her, the new girl, who wouldn’t understand the significance? Did they know each other? 

Her voice had been kind, but something about their whole interaction had struck Hermione as forced.

But what did she know? She’d never been able to hold her own or even know what was going on in most all-female conversations, like with Lavender or Parvati. 

Funny, since the girls she had met at the few science camps, or youth science conferences she had attended, in her summers before the Time Event, were wonderful! She had kept up an easy correspondence with them over the years, mutually geeking out about the advancements or history of whichever field had caught their fancy at the time. Hmm.

By the end of the day, she was entirely fed up with the endless badgering about Snape. What kind of question was ‘was he wearing summer robes when you met’?! 

Half the gossips didn’t even bother introducing themselves! Just ‘hey, you had a minor interaction with Snape that the whole school now knows _every single_ _detail_ of, do you have _more_ details?’ and off they went. 

Lily must have been taking the brunt of this, if they knew each other like Hermione suspected, that’s why she sounded so underwhelmed when Mary spoke of Snape.

It all only served to make her angrier at Snape. Why couldn’t he have just stayed the same offputting teen he’d always been? Of  _ course _ acting like a grown man, mature, in a healthy teenage body would have half the school falling at his feet! 

She hoped it came back to bite him when the student body worked up the courage to approach him directly instead of going after the safer people who 'knew' him.

She got into bed in a huff, punching her pillow into submission, and resolved to put out her most snobbish, I-don’t-care-about-anything-but-schoolwork-you-fools look for the rest of the week to discourage any more inane small talk.

\--

It didn’t help. The next day at lunch, she was dragged off to sit under a tree by what looked to be an all-ages group of Hufflepuff girls, and she couldn’t help cringing. Hufflepuff was the one house the Sorting Hat hadn’t considered for her, and it made it even harder for her to relate.

“Oh please help! None of the other ‘Claws will give us the time of day, but since you’re new, you can make friends with whoever you want, right? Let’s be friends? We heard there’s books in Ravenclaw that even the library doesn’t have.” 

The apparent ringleader, a gum-chewing sixth-year named Alice, started. “We were researching ways to measure our compatibility with others… I wanted to check mine with Frank, Frank Longbottom, from Gryffindor. I’m too shy to talk to him around all the other Gryffindors, so we found this one way, but the book didn’t go into detail. 

"It was an Alchemy book, it mentioned that your elemental affinity may influence which partner you end up with, how some are more compatible than others! But it didn’t explain how to figure out which you are though, and it seems like it’s really old magic. The library doesn’t have anything else, could you  _ please  _ check in the tower?” Hermione blinked quickly to keep her face from showing her surprise. 

This must be Neville’s mother, she’d read about her and Frank in Hogwarts: a History! They were war heroes, but Neville said he’d grown up with his Grandmother. What had happened to them again? She hated that she no longer had the 1994 version of her books, she couldn’t check!

“I’ll look into it, no problem.”

“Ooh, thank you!” Alice shot a wide smile that reminded Hermione of the first time she had successfully found Neville’s toad for him her way, before being dragged back into the other girls’ conversation.

“I wonder what Severus’ affinity is…” Hermione shuddered as she left, hearing one of the girls speculate. In her head, he was still the uptight Professor she knew, not someone to just casually refer to by his first name, in a romantic way, no less!

Up to the Tower she went, nevertheless, cursing her soft heart all the way. It felt nice to make the connection with her lost friend Neville, though it wasn’t as good as seeing him again, despite the extra research she hadn’t planned on. 

‘Her’ abandoned lab, hidden in Ravenclaw Tower, looked as if it had been created by a student who had wanted to follow in the Ollivanders’ footsteps and become a wandmaker. 

Wandmaking required an intimate knowledge of Alchemy, along with a host of other things, and measuring a person’s attributes was how the wands choose their wizards. Pleased with the connection she’d thought of, she decided to start in there, with its decent collection of obscure tomes.

The Hufflepuffs were lucky they had asked her, and that the favour they needed involved research. The boys used to say ‘Hermione’s on the case’ when she got into it, since she wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop researching until the question was answered, working at it like it was her job. She tackled this problem exactly the same way.

6 entire books and exactly 37 cross-references later, three of which she came back to twice, Hermione felt she had a solid understanding of the basics. It was hard to imagine what her innate affinity was without a second opinion, easier to tell with others. 

She couldn’t decide if she was more Earth or Water, in terms of personality. Those with an earth affinity were naturally cautious, practical, and logical, like her, and protective. She was stubborn enough, and her fear of heights seemed to point to it, but there were too many things that worked for her when she looked at the water-attributes to decide. 

Maybe that was why she was feeling so off her rocker, the two weren’t the most compatible elements. Where earth was practical and stubborn, water was impulsive, ever-changing, emotional and passionate. 

Water was also very adaptable, which she’d had so much practice at by now, it felt like part of who she was. Both earth and water were generally calm elements, but pushed too far, they were the most destructive, like when she punched Malfoy. Maybe she was both? Only one of the books had mentioned that people could have more than one affinity, though. 

Confusion over her own affinity or not, she was excited to share a new theory she had with Snape, not just the Hufflepuffs. If the inkling she had was right, and she suspected it was, an air affinity would be enough to make him susceptible to the Time Event, the books described it as the most magic-sensitive element. 

Hurrying down the hall to the Hufflepuff dormitory to share what she found with Alice, as she had already missed dinner, she didn’t notice the ward blocking the hallway until she had bumped into it, bouncing off and landing on her butt.

Standing above her, within the ward, was Snape, prowling counter-clockwise around the edges of the shield, his, in a dueling stance. It looked almost as if he were dancing the Paso Doble, circling his partner, never breaking eye contact before they met in a passionate clash in the center of the dance floor. 

But that wasn’t what was happening here. Across from him, wands out, were the Marauders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated!
> 
> PS: "I see you shiver with antici..."  
-Dr. Frank-N-Furter


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...pation"  
-Dr. Frank-N-Furter

**SS**

Severus had felt the telltale prickle of being followed after leaving dinner. Easy as you please, he led them down an empty hallway on the way to the kitchens, and the Hufflepuff dorms.

Now _this_ would be satisfying. Slowing his pace, he paused as if to check his pockets for something, and silently threw up a dueling ward.

They hadn’t yet noticed, but their fate was sealed. And, joy of joys, maybe he’d trapped them in time to find out how the hell they’d hid so well all those years. Shucking his robes, he folded them neatly and placed them on the ground.

Back to the shield of his ward, he stood, and waited, hands loose at his side. His posture may have been relaxed, however, his wand was in his forearm holster, and every muscle in his body was primed to act. 

He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of thinking they had surprised him, and as they couldn’t leave, he was happy to wait in silence until they caught on. Now that he thought of it, he’d remain silent for their entire exchange. He had nothing to say to them, now.

There wasn’t long to wait. He heard some scuffling across from him, a muffled curse and bang as his shield rippled in their attempt to retreat and keep their secrets, before a pause. Unblinking, he waited and watched as they pulled off what looked to be an invisibility cloak. He filed that away for later examination. Black was the first to speak.

“What is this, Snivellus, some kind of poncy ambush? I’m about done with your slimy Slytherin tactics!” He bared his teeth, and fell into a dueling stance. The Blacks were known for their brutality, and dueling form was drilled into them from a young age.

Sirius likely hadn’t noticed, but Severus could see his family’s influence in how he held himself. Out of all of them, coming from a dark family, Black was the biggest threat.

Lupin appeared to not know where to put his hands, and Pettigrew had his to his mouth, anxiously or perhaps gleefully, he couldn’t tell, chewing on his nails. Eugh, where had his hands been, or worse, where had his paws been? That can’t be sanitary.

Black’s posturing and verbal attack faltered when Severus said nothing, holding their gazes levelly, and Potter, always so self-assured, stepped in. Coming from a loving home, as an only child who could get away with anything, from a family well-liked by the public and above scrutiny must have done a helluva lot for the bastard’s confidence.

“You’ve finally learned to slither away like the snake you are, Snivellus! Where’ve you been hiding?” James said cruelly. Like a well-rehearsed play, Pettigrew laughed, on cue, and Black used the ‘distraction’ to throw an _Impedimenta_ his way. 

Severus waved it away wandlessly, like an annoying bug. How cowardly, Black. In one fluid movement, his wand was in his hand, and he began circling the shield in a dueling stance of his own design.

It was a mixture of martial arts, wizarding tradition, and funnily enough, bull-fighting. When dealing with Gryffindors, it was best to let them see red and dodge their resulting charge, as a matador would with a bull. ‘Olé!’ as they say.

His opponents seemed struck dumb, which wasn’t surprising, the dunderheads were already halfway there. Black and Potter had retained enough malice and hatred to fuel their adrenaline, enough to ignore their instincts.

Lupin and the rat, however, perhaps it was their close connection to their animal forms, could see that there was a predator in their midst, and shrank back behind their companions.

A thud from outside the shield nearly broke Severus’ concentration, until he realized it was Miss Granger, clumsy thing, falling all over the place. Wonderful timing, she wouldn’t miss the fun! Thank the gods it was only her, and not someone unaware of the situation, who’d end up blaming him.

“Been training with your Death Eater friends, then, Snape? Let’s see what you got!” It would be so much better for Black if he learned to keep his mouth shut and stop announcing his attacks. All the better for Severus. Before he could get his next curse out, Severus had sent a silent _ Incarcerous_, _ Langlock, _ and _ Levicorpus_ through the group to hit Lupin, easily stringing him up, and out of the way.

Out of all of them, Lupin neither deserved, nor could he withstand a visit to the Hospital Wing, this close to the full moon’s approach.

“What are you on about, going after Moony? You’ll pay for that! You think you’re so smart, hiding away recently. Your existence has been grating on my nerves more than usual. Hey Padfoot, you reckon the girls have been tittering about him ‘cause he finally came out of the closet? They’ve got a new girl to braid hair with! Poufter!” Potter snickered at his own ‘wit’, Black and the rat joining in.

Turning back to Severus, he could tell they had expected to bask in their self-satisfaction as he sputtered and denied it, as he would have as a boy. Instead, he joined them in their laughter, a low chuckle, paired with his widest grin. 

When it didn’t reach his eyes, it made him look rather demonic. (He knew, he’d checked in the mirror, curious, when his mother had one day asked him not to smile unless he meant it.)

The boys flinched, though, for the two ringleaders, his laughter only served to incense them further. And so the dance began.

\--

**HG**

Hermione had disillusioned herself after meeting Snape’s eye, and was bouncing on her tiptoes with anticipation. Since punching Malfoy the past year, she had a new appreciation for standing up to bullies.

It was terribly satisfying, and these weren’t regular bullies, either. In their midst, Sirius, in his ignorance and hatred, was already an attempted murderer. And four against one? Cruel and unusual, even in the best of cases.

It felt strange to root for Snape, alongside her general frustration with him. And yet, not only was the underdog winning, he was also putting on quite a show! She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. Hermione knew, of course, that he was not, in fact, the underdog, but of course, that made it even better! A shared secret, and against bullies, no less.

And, his movements reminded her of her Professor’s duel with Lockhart. Even before the duel, Hermione’s young heart had been disillusioned with Gilderoy Lockhart.

Seeing him prance about the stage, introducing a very serious and potentially dangerous club like it was nothing more than another sparkle to his smile put her off right quickly, and she had even entertained a few schoolgirl fantasies about Professor Snape, after he had so neatly taken him out on the dueling floor. Huh. She’d forgotten.

Well, there was certainly enough in front of her to remind her of it now. Off tumbled Pettigrew across the hallway, and he appeared to be pretending unconsciousness in order to stay down.

She wasn’t surprised. She had glimpsed the grin Snape had pulled at them, and she couldn’t imagine how terrified she would have been to be on the wrong side of it, and him. She wanted to kick him while he was down, despite that.

Snape was a whirlwind. Ducking, weaving, rolling, deflecting, and countering, his was a wild and unhesitant style. A controlled flight that spoke of years of fighting for his life, making things up on the go, until he no longer had to make it up. It was simply habit, and study, and fluid perfection. 

It was over in less than four minutes. The adrenaline, however, had made it last for ages. She imagined it was even longer for the boys, who were now on the ground, hanging in the air, and strung up on the walls, restrained and defeated. Perhaps the most biting dig was that not a single one had been harmed in the process.

Yes, they may have been terrified for their lives in the process, but Snape had demonstrated that not only was he stronger than them, he was also, currently, _ better _ than them, and didn’t need to resort to physical violence anymore.

That’s not to say they were unmarked, however. Through some very inventive charmwork, it appeared that Snape had swapped their facial features until they looked to all be part of the same badly incestuous family!

She wondered how long it would last. For Peter, it might even be an improvement! Removing her disillusionment, she laughed softly, and Snape’s head whipped around to pin her with an intense gaze, as if he’d forgotten she was there.

The endorphins left over from the fight had blown his pupils wide, and his already dark eyes were like twin black holes, now. A full body shiver made her knees go weak.

He blinked, and his expression cleared. He gave her a small smile of triumph, before sweeping his robes back around his shoulders and striding away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Should I write you guys more of Severus' POV of the fight? What do you think?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, sorry for the wait! There are moments in life where my brain goes 'forget all the things!' including inspiration, and I obey, unfortunately. But I WILL be seeing this story through, don't you worry!

**SS**

As Severus left the fight, he continued smiling to himself. His small smile soon rebelled, stretching across his face as his body filled with the easy, triumphant joy of a young man. The looks on their faces! He felt rather like Peter Pan in this moment, his grin now showing teeth. ‘_Oh, the cleverness of me! _’ as the never-aged one said.

In a burst of spontaneity, he flung out his hand to the closest window, forcing it open, and leapt.

The warm winds of late summer were playful, and quick to obey his will, as his mood matched theirs. He used the energy from a particularly eager thermal updraft to fling himself up through the few low-hanging clouds into the clear night sky, with a laugh that felt more like a thunderclap of release, after his lightning bolt of a victory.

Turning on his back, he took in the stars above him, and drifted in lazy figure-eights slowly lower as he came down from his excitement, sighing in contentment.

\--

**HG**

Hermione had scooped up the invisibility cloak and pocketed the Mauraders’ Map for her own use, hurrying after Snape to give him the cloak. She didn’t know why she wanted to. Perhaps to fulfill the old saying, ‘to the victor go the spoils’?

Or maybe it was just her mind grasping at semi-rational straws to follow him, as her body insistently dragged her towards him. The shiver his gaze had induced in her seemed to be the spark that lit the flame of want, though she didn’t know what 'the flame' expected her to do about it. Forcing her body’s demands out of her mind for the much more favourable first option, she pressed on.

She had nearly caught up with him, when he suddenly burst into motion, up onto a windowsill and out!

Lunging for him, she nearly fell out of the window herself, trying to catch his ankle. Breathless, she scrambled back and gripped the window in awe as he flew, instead of falling. Her need to know took over, witnessing a level of magic she had never dreamed of.

The winds seemed to sing, and laugh along with him as he threw his joy to the skies.

_This_ was it. This was exactly what she wanted from magic, what she needed. This was _real_ magic, what she had dreamed of without being able to describe, as a child, before she knew that it was real. She felt the pulse of it, living and ancient. She wouldn’t stop until she could feel the old magics for herself.

\--

**SS**

Re-entering the castle, it felt as if his feet still weren’t firmly on the ground, wisps of wind-filled air still buoying him up. The further he walked, however, the more his adrenaline wore off, and the heavier his steps felt. Severus felt like a raw nerve, stripped bare and vulnerable.

Suddenly, he found himself choking back sobs and stumbling, blinded by tears, to the nearest alcove. He pressed his back to the wall, and slid down into a shaking ball, head between his knees. 

It took him a moment to understand where it was coming from. Pairing mental maturity with teenage hormones while trying to heal and establish emotional intelligence and maturity as_ well _was, well,_ very _confusing.

The wounded animal that was his childhood could finally release the grief it had held onto for so long. And since it was the child inside him crying, he irrationally wanted nothing more in this world than his mother. 

So, when he felt a small, tentative hand on his shoulder, he leaned into it instinctively, his body shuddering with sobs. Though no words were exchanged, for which he was grateful, he soon found himself being held.

As he calmed, still turned in on himself and shaking, face burrowed in the witch’s shoulder, he felt her rhythmically stroking his back, and gently rocking. Now too embarrassed to show his face, he kept his head ducked and stiffened his back, in the hopes that whoever she was would leave quietly, or maybe he hoped she was a hallucination.

“Don’t worry, Professor, we’re under that invisibility cloak now, no one can see.” 

So it was Miss Granger. He should have known. Her soft heart was well-known amongst the staff of Hogwarts.

He was, thankfully, too emotionally wiped to care that she’d seen him vulnerable again at this point, and she did at least understand a bit of the significance of this evening. She continued her soothing until he relaxed again, inch by inch, back into their previous position. His breathing steadied and his limbs grew heavy, his thoughts slowing.

She was very warm.

\--

**HG**

Hermione held the boy in her arms more determinedly than she had done anything in a long while. There were a few voices screaming in her head that her _ Professor _didn’t need comforting, damnit!

But in front of her, Snape looked exactly like Harry did, on the days around Christmas or Easter, when Ron excitedly went on about all the things his mother was preparing for their family. He waited until Ron was out of earshot, but the grief for his lost childhood and family always caught up with him.

There was no way in_ any _hell, or afterlife, that she could walk away. She was surprised by how easily he had let himself be held, but when he came back to himself and tried to withdraw again, her reassurance, and soothing technique, which she had perfected over the years with Harry, seemed to work.

He finally relaxed again, and she wasn’t budging.

That was one of the things she would never regret about her abuse of the Time-Turner, before. Then, there was nowhere Harry could hide from her comfort, that way. She learned every hiding place, and found him every time, even if she needed a few turns through the hours to do it. No one should have to suffer alone, she should know.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the exact moment he fell asleep, but his deep breathing was telling enough.

Wiping the tears that were left off of his face, he looked more his body’s age than she had yet seen him. Young and innocent. His eyelashes, still wet and reflecting the moonlight, fanned across his cheeks at a length that made her want desperately to feel them against her skin in a butterfly’s kiss.

Shaking her head to snap herself out of it, she called for a house-elf she had gotten to know over the summer to take him to bed. Happy to serve, as she was slowly coming around to as a concept, the elf came back for her and tucked her in as well.

Hermione was grateful, for the emotional rollercoaster of Severus' triumph, celebration, and release of grief had dragged her along for the ride too, her empathy at once useful and exhausting.

As she drifted off to sleep, she felt a whisper of warm wind brush her hair away from her face, almost a caress, weaving around her until she knew no more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a wordy one!

**SS**

Severus woke the most rested he’d felt in a long time. The events of the last night seemed too surreal in the early morning to accept as reality.

He had no idea how he’d gotten in bed, and as discombobulating as it was, he felt a twinge of warmth and affection, much like the mornings after his mother had moved him from where he fell asleep on the couch to his bed, on the rare nights Tobias wasn’t home and he could read as long as he liked, so long as he used the light from the fire to conserve electricity.

It was a quiet sort of gesture, not any kind of grand overture. But, to be moved so carefully, so he could keep sleeping, would make anyone feel loved. The few times he had woken in his ma’s arms, he’d feigned sleep to preserve how precious the moment felt. He’d have to owl his mother soon.

Agh! He was going soft. Sharing a similar moment with Granger felt much too vulnerable, and he squashed the warmth in his chest quickly.

All through the morning, he pondered. What to do about Miss Granger. She had so much more on him than anyone else in this timeline, and he hated the feeling. Their being pulled to this timeline together was one thing, and he could not sever that tie, as much as his instincts screamed that he should.

So, he would ensure that their connection would go no further, instead. Last night was easy enough to write off as a moment of weakness, and he would be nothing but proper, moving forward. 

Satisfied with his plan, he was looking forward to putting it to practice as soon as possible, during this evening’s meeting, which was approaching in less than an hour. Stamp out any sympathy she had growing behind her curls with a cold front. If his luck held, which he highly doubted, she would be the only person he had to interact with today. 

“Mister Snape, you will follow me, please.” _ Fuck. _McGonagall.

She raised an eyebrow when he didn’t immediately snap to attention, and he hurried to obey. Predictably, he was led to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was puzzling over his four victims from last night.

As annoying as the interruption was, he had hoped they would walk into this trap. Had they had any self-preservation at all, they would have kept their heads down and kept the adults out of the equation.

But they had gotten cocky over the years, being passed over, pardoned, believed, by the adults around them. They assumed the same pattern would be followed this time. However, being an adult himself, he knew all the professors needed was the truth.

There was no sane adult, especially not the Hogwarts faculty, who held any agenda against him, personally, as he had believed for much of his formative years. Despite the Headmaster covering up his near-death at the hands of Sirius Black, the first time they went through sixth year, he would have done so to _ any _student, not just Severus, that had been the victim to Black’s ‘prank.’ 

His defensive mentality had likely sabotaged the help he could have gotten, perhaps not from Dumbledore, but in general, before.

So. The truth would out, this time. In the magical world, it was as simple as pulling a few memories for a Pensive, a quick casting of _Priori Incantatem _ for more recent things, or just one of the many truth-inducing potions out there, not that they would be legal, in this case.

They were so, so fucked. He hoped they would protest, try to come up with a way to say he started it, or that he’d been after them for years. Yes, there may be some incriminating evidence against him, but his arsenal was bigger. For every time he had fought back, they had matched it many times over with their cruelty.

The more they fought the inevitable, the more he would expose them. Would they catch on? Or keep digging their proverbial graves?

\--

**HG**

Meanwhile, Hermione was having an epiphany. Snape _ had _ to have an Air affinity. There was no other explanation for his flying without a broom.

She had scoured the meagre pickings on flight that the library offered that didn’t relate to Quidditch, and although she collected at least five new leads to research more on, out of simple interest, the only mention of pure human flight was small, stating that though rare, it had been accomplished, and not to try it at home.

Oh, there could have been a perfectly reasonable explanation for his flight last night, disillusioned broom, Dark Arts, a potion, etcetera, but she was _sure_.

It was the first time she had ever instinctively_ known _ something in the magical realm. Yes, she was very quick to understand the things that she read, or was taught; the concepts and successful execution came easily to her, but it had felt no different to a science experiment.

Not to say she didn’t love it utterly and completely, it simply had never moved her or inspired her past the initial joy of learning it and succeeding. She’d had no idea what she wanted to do after graduation for that reason, it’s not as if she could just continue going to school forever.

What she witnessed last night had struck a chord, right down to her very centre, humming and resonating with a constant buzz of exhilaration and purpose. There weren’t words for it.

The winds had accepted him as one of their own, played with him, freed him from his earthly tether! If that wasn’t an Air affinity, she’d eat her hat. And the other elements had to have some kind of equivalent, maybe ones that wouldn’t involve _ heights_.

They were alive, in a way that could never be recorded through boorish, clumsy human language.

If they were alive, then so were the other elements, so was everything around her! Why on earth wasn’t everyone in constant awe?! If they had life, could it be taken away? Could an element get sick?

Her eyes widened at the thought. In the muggle world, pollution and global warming had been growing issues, in 1994. The devastating and long-term effects were just beginning to be researched, and if she knew anything about Wizarding society, it’s that it was centuries behind.

What if the energies, the elements that were everywhere, tied to the core of all beings, but especially to the cores of magical folk, could be ‘polluted’? Was there anything being done to protect them, to monitor them? Where was the research, where was the education?

Other than the defeat of Voldemort, she had never felt so strongly about anything in her life. If there wasn’t already a career where she could devote her life to this, too bad. She’d make one. Wrench it from the never-changing Wizarding community’s backwards little hands.

What other fundamental parts of magic had been overlooked? Why? It was so important to learn from history, from the ancient magics, but instead History of Magic taught them nothing but Goblin War after Goblin War.

As a muggleborn, _ she _ knew more about magical history than her classmates, who had spent their whole lives in magical society, and that was just from reading the basic materials! What of the rest of the Magical World, what of its history? It was as if Wizarding Britain was deliberately being kept in the dark! 

Older magic was often mis-classified as Dark, and she could assume that ancient magics could have been, as well. She’d have to ask Snape what he knew on the matter. If nothing else, he might be able to point her in the right direction.

\--

**SS**

The crowd in the Hospital Wing had grown considerably since Severus had initially arrived. The families of Potter, Pettigrew, and Lupin, those who could attend on short notice, had arrived, and the chaos was _ marvelous. _ He had immediately requested a Pensieve, which had made the boys go white, or a mottled more-pale-than-before, due to their mixed up facial features, courtesy of a spell he was calling _ Mutatio incestum_.

He blamed it on accidental magic during the fight, and as it had been wandless and silent, they couldn’t track it. If they wanted their faces back, they’d have to reverse-engineer the spell to invent a counter-curse for it, and that could take weeks!

Lupin’s werewolf characteristics might fight off the spell on their own, but it was no great loss. Severus had already won, this was just the victory lap. The professors had all been convinced very quickly, and it appeared Minerva still had the habit of turning into a cat to hide her tears when distressed.

She was now perched on his lap, curled into a tight ball as he attempted to somewhat soothe her with pets. The revelation had broken her heart, and those of the other professors, who couldn’t understand how everything had happened under their noses the whole time. Some were furious, some embarrassed. That was the only thing he regretted about this whole situation, that it hurt his former colleagues.

Bureaucracy being what it is, the parents simply _ had _ to be informed, and the chaos that ensued was his current source of entertainment. His mother couldn’t make it, something about ‘not leaving the repairmen alone at the house.’

Presumably, a masterful excuse not to come, which he appreciated, for she had faith in him, that he could handle himself. It made him smile inwardly, recognizing his own Slytherin and antisocial tendencies in her. Anything to avoid dealing with emotional Gryffindor parents. Normally, he would agree.

The Potters stood grim and silent on either side of their spawn, with Black on the opposite side of Fleamont. Mr. Potter, a respectable man, had a firm hand on each boy’s shoulder, keeping them in place with an iron grip as they tried to protest.

Poppy Pomfrey herself was informing them all of their sons’ deviancy, _ thoroughly_. Lupin’s father hadn’t come, but his Muggle mother sat beside him with a concerned look on her face, holding his hand. He looked to have his tail between his legs, head hanging in guilt.

Severus knew he would likely forgive him one day, for he knew Lupin had needed his friends desperately, and was so young. Of course he was pulled along with their antics. 

“Oh what has that nasty boy done to my son’s beautiful face!” Mrs Pettigrew, a doughy mouse of a woman married to a shrewish man wailed, her hands fluttering about her rat of a son like she was trying to put out a flame. Even as a parent, how could anyone be so blind to the boys' hateful ways?

Suddenly, his plans to remain calm and composed as the truth came out went out the window. The laugh that began in his chest and rolled outwards was harsh and hearty, if not a little bitter, loud enough for the others to freeze in place, startled.

“Nasty boy indeed! Nasty with my second-hand clothes, nasty with my flinching reflex -have you ever been beaten by _ your _ father, ma’am?- my cowering posture, nasty in _ contrast _ to my sweet best friend, my only friend, who your ‘beautiful’ son’s ringleader coveted with jealousy. Not counting the wonderful stigma of being a ‘slimy Slytherin,’ I can see very clearly how ‘nasty’ I was in their eyes, what an easy target.” Minerva had hopped off his lap at some point during his tirade to stand fully human behind him, glaring all the while at her four lion cubs.

“Furthermore, I am aware that I gave as good as I got, but, the only reason I am standing before you today instead of laying six feet under is, even four-on-one, they have been too _ incompetent _ to fucking... take... me... down.”

“He’s a dark wizard, mum, I _ told _you!” Potter fell to childish whinging quickly, a likely default for him with his parents. However, it appeared it would not hold, if the whitened knuckles of Fleamont Potter were anything to go by. 

“Was it not dark when you used a tripping jinx to send me from the third to the first floor the hard way? I ran from the Hospital Wing instead of telling them my arm was broken, I was too afraid they would see the new scars my father had left. Why tell an adult when you have already been betrayed by the one who was supposed to protect you most fiercely?” Black flinched minutely.

“Was it not dark when you glued my shoes to the floor, the only pair I had, or could afford? When you laughed? Was it not dark when that made me trip and spill a potentially volatile potion all over an_ ACTIVE LAB__?!?" _

He paused for breath when he realized his volume had built to a roar. Lab safety was a touchy subject, after all. “Two incidents. Just two of the _ hundreds _ your sons instigated over the years, that could have resulted in death.

"I’m _ glad _ I was the target, _ glad _ I was ‘nasty’ enough to focus on. Thank goodness I was strong enough, lucky enough. Other students in my shoes may have already perished! Maybe that would have been enough for these boys to see the error of their ways.

“Yes, I have studied the dark arts. Yes, I have even used dark spells in self defence. But maybe if your sons had ever cracked a book, they’d be able to understand that the dark magic they toyed with, ‘harmless’ curses, hexes and jinxes, and the cruelty of children who knew no better, can quickly escalate.

"Dark magic is greedy, and they are young vessels full of fuel.” He threw a sneer in their direction as he straightened his robes. “I hope, for _ everyone’s _ sake that they… re-evaluate… their priorities.”

He glanced at Minerva, who gave him a sharp nod that told him the faculty would take it from there, which he was grateful for. All this personal exposure was quickly exhausting his emotional reserves, and made his exit.

The image of the Marauders, brought to justice for the first time, was something he’d never forget. Unfortunately, the hate in some of their faces told him they wouldn’t soon forget, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, mouse-face got owned ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.”  
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

**HG**

Hermione knew her former professor was exhausted. She hadn’t seen that expression on his face since her classes with him. Over her year -years?- of turning through time, she was able to closely study those around her as she witnessed the same days multiple times.

He was generally difficult to read, but a clear indicator of the days when the ‘dunderheads’ got to him was the crease he developed between his brows, when his demeanor was pinched and wan. She patted the seat across from her when he paused in the doorway as if weighing whether he should risk entry and further exhaustion.

As he sat, she wondered if he’d ever had any truly empathetic company before.

“Fallout from the duel?” His eyes, though they had been directed at her before, had been unseeing, a look she herself sported when lost in her thoughts, dissociated from her surroundings, suddenly focused, and he blinked, as if surprised.

“Yes. I believe they will be sufficiently punished, if Minerva and Poppy have anything to say about it.” His response was subdued, after clearing his throat.

“I have no doubt, though I have my own plans for Peter. This calls for a -hmm.” She cut herself off to glance at Snape again. It wasn’t completely comfortable to allow her empathy to reach out to him, trying to figure out both what he needed, and how she should bring up the questions she had, since he was still fundamentally a stranger to her.

Maybe if he was a bit less world-weary. Tired, overwhelmed… there was only one thing for it.

“Calls for a what, Miss Granger?”

“It’s Hermione, you know that! And it calls for, hmm, a comfy chair, to start. Yes, I think so.” She nearly laughed at the bewildered expression on his face. Snagging his forearm, he put up little resistance in his surprise. “Come on, up you get.”

That done, she transfigured their respective seats into large, deep comfy chairs, keeping them a dark brown. Levitating them to a corner past the former teaching podium she nodded in satisfaction when the nook turned out to be the perfect size.

Digging in her book bag, she stacked up the books she had been hoping to discuss with him, her current novel, her back-up novel, she’d re-read that one too many times to count, Hogwarts: A History, and a textbook in Latin she had forgotten was there, on a nearby table. Lots of variety. A pile of conjured blankets and pillows later, she turned to him with an innocent smile. “I have some final bits of research I wanted to do before I discussed a couple of theories with you, if you’re okay to wait for me?” 

Of course, she had no research left to complete, she came prepared. She wasn’t sure if it was a Slytherin-esque move, or just something all women knew to do when offering help to proud individuals.

Instead of stating explicitly that this was for his benefit, she simply provided an opportunity for him to relax, so that the choice to take it was ultimately up to him. The request for him to allow ‘her’ some time to get her reading done was simply a nudge that would hopefully encourage him to stay, and allow _ himself _ the time. 

“That is… acceptable.” His response was slow, and she hoped she hadn’t offended him with her manhandling, as his gaze was fixed on where her hand still held his arm.

She released him to settle herself into her chair, snagging one of her reference books to re-read, and removing her shoes to tuck her feet under her, making a bit of a show out of getting extra comfortable so he wouldn’t feel out of place if he assumed a less than perfect posture while relaxing.

She couldn’t know exactly what he wanted or needed, but she tried to give him the space and time she would have wanted, in his shoes.

“Thanks! You’re welcome to any of the books there, if you want.” Keeping her tone light, she smiled up at him, and buried her head resolutely in her book, determined not to look up until she heard the pages of his book turning for a good while.

Any staring or glances from her were likely to just put him on edge again. It was like dealing with a skittish wild thing, one wrong move would have him slamming up his walls again. Listening closely, she heard him toss his robes over the back of the chair and sit, smiling to herself behind the book.

Mission, accomplished!

\--

**SS**

Watching the little witch tuck into her book, Severus felt as if he had just been swept into a strong current, and was now adrift. He had barely had time to process what she meant by ‘this calls for a comfy chair,’ when she grabbed him! Did the girl have no fear?

So in shock was he, no adequate protest came to mind as she dragged him about. Oh, those chairs seemed nice. The back of the classroom? Why? And how many books could one witch carry? Blankets? Was she cold?

He’d responded carefully when she explained her request to research further, but it was so unlike her to be unprepared that it left him feeling completely unbalanced. If she had met his eyes for a longer moment, he might have been tempted to figure out her intentions using Legilimency, though he knew she’d have noticed, if her reports of resisting Albus’ meddling were anything to go by. 

Who knew how long he stood there, still and questioning, but the events of the day were catching up with him, and his chair looked awfully squishy.

He wasn’t sure if she had intended to do so, but she had chosen the seat closest to the door, not that they were close in their position, leaving him to the other, furthest into the corner. It was that much more tempting, knowing the safety of his position if he did join her to read. Ah well.

Watching her as he folded himself into his chair, Severus picked up the first book at hand, feeling blindly as he kept his eye on the strange girl in front of him. When she didn’t look up, he sat back to examine the book in his hand.

Latin? Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. He’d already used a spell of her design, why wouldn’t she know at least the basics? A textbook was hardly what he was in the mood for, so he chose one of the novels instead.

_ The Secret Garden. _A Muggle classic, written by a wizard at the end of his life, under a pseudonym. Severus believed he had read somewhere that this book was controversial in the wizarding world, exposing the elemental magics, specifically earth magics, to the Muggles, despite not disrupting the Statute of Secrecy.

The author had written and released it quietly in the Muggle world, for he felt that all humans needed the hope that magic brings, and the Muggles were forgetting. The book appeared well-loved, and a peek inside the cover showed him a note,

‘To our Hermione on your 6th birthday. Love, Mum and Dad.’ She must carry it everywhere, he thought, to have had it on her when they arrived in the past.

His curiosity had quickly distracted him enough that the tension could drain out of his body, and he shifted to get more comfortable. Peering once more at his unlikely companion, he saw nothing but a peaceful tableau, pages turned and book held much like he would, her breathing even, and posture relaxed.

There was nothing about her that chafed at him, in this state, and he found himself happy to wait for her, if it meant things would be this quiet and undemanding.

\--

**HG**

Oh, he’d chosen her favourite book.

Oh.

The pages she had fallen into, time and time again, at least once a year for over eighty percent of her life. Her 'back up novel.' The characters were her best friends as a child, her sisters and brothers.

It was the book that made it okay for her to believe in magic, even as others called it childish. _“__I am sure there is Magic in everything, only we have not sense enough to get hold of it and make it do things for us.__” _

And maybe the book was magic too, for there was Severus, nearly an hour into reading together, the crease of his eyebrows finally clear. It was only after peeking over her book cover and determining that he was lost in his book of choice that she’d felt safe to stare, and stare she did, her breath caught in her throat.

His _hands. _One, gracefully supporting the book, nearly dwarfing it in comparison to how her hands fit on it, the other deftly and gently turning the pages, as precisely as he would process the most delicate and precious ingredients in the lab.

It was as if he was holding a piece of her soul, so carefully that it took her breath away.

The feeling was intense enough to make her feel, for a moment, as if she needed to snatch her tattered book back and hide it away inside of her.

His intent expression, as his dark eyes scanned the words at a leisurely pace, like he was savouring it, that piece of her soul, made her suddenly very glad to be seated already. Her knees were water, and she couldn’t have stood now if she tried. 

She knew instinctively that she was in trouble now.

She had been able to write off her initial attraction to him as simply physical, convinced herself that she admired his magical talent and intelligence, nothing more. But this was deeper.

She suddenly _wanted_, in a way she never had before. She wanted to show him more bits of her soul, and if he treated them as well as he treated this one, she knew she would give him her heart.

Oh dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, Hermione thought she had a handle on that situation. How very wrong she was!
> 
> P.S. -Can you guys tell The Secret Garden isn't just Hermione's favourite classic?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We thought Hermione fell hard... hoo boy ;)

**SS**

She hadn’t turned a page for… how long now? A niggling sense at the back of Severus' brain made him finish the paragraph, and look up.

Peeking over the cover of her book, her eyes were wide at being caught staring. Clearing her throat, she recovered quickly.

“Good timing! I was just going to ask if you were ready to continue our discussion, but you looked… well, I just didn’t want to interrupt.” Now that the book wasn’t in the way, he could see that she was a bit flushed, her lower lip reddened from biting.

Was she nervous about something? Did she suspect him of landing her here, and not know how to confront him?

“I’m prepared to continue, Miss Granger. This is, afterall, a novel I have read before.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“And why not? It was written by a wizard, you know, not that I have any aversion in particular to Muggle literature.” The speed with which her demeanor transformed was astonishing.

Despite not leaving her seat, she felt at least a meter closer, as her entire being seemed to light up with the thrill of… something. Had he done that? 

“A wizard? _Why_ didn’t I know this before, oh how wonderful! I’ll need to re-read all of his works, now that I know. Wait, was that his real name? I should research who he was as a wizard. Then I can re-read. Thank you, thank you!” It was as if he had given her the most amazing gift, even though it was an offhand comment. Was she crying? No, but the shine illuminating her eyes was threatening to overflow. 

Then, like a criminal found red-handed, she dropped the subject, looking guilty. “Sorry, that’s not what you came here to talk about. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

She had wilted noticeably, and even though he hadn’t moved to stop her, he wondered why he felt disappointed when she had. Like a passing cloud, however, her face cleared quickly. 

“Go ahead, Miss Granger.”

“Right. I have a theory about why we’re here. You remember I had mentioned, about my belief that I had been destabilized in time?” There it was. He didn’t know why he had thought it might not come up, why he had hoped. “Well, I was speaking with some Hufflepuff girls, they were trying to research compatibility. Lots of your fans in that group.”

Fans? Was she being sarcastic?

“But like I was saying, their questions led me to look into elemental magics. My whole theory kind of hinges on whether or not you have an Air affinity… do you?” His thoughts exactly, and he hated to confirm her theory. He should prepare some sort of apology. What to say?

“I had a similar thought process, and yes, I do.” As he paused to brace himself, she continued.

“You do! I knew it!” Her elation soon turned to horror, and he flinched internally, knowing how soon she would hate him. Rushing to apologize he bowed his head.

“I’m so sorry-”

“I’m sorry-”

They had spoken at the same time. Head cocked to the side in confusion, she surprised him as she continued,

“You’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who couldn’t control her damn emotions enough not to erase her entire timeline! I’m the one who let the time turner tempt me. You just got dragged along for the ride. I’m so, so sorry. I put you in so much danger, what if we had arrived somewhere else? Or not arrived at all?!” She was now properly close to tears, and he rushed to do something.

“Miss Granger, do not blame yourself. _ I _ am sorry, for there is a possibility that you would have simply stayed within your timeline, tethered by the strong emotions and connections you associated with it, subconsciously, despite the Time Event. But, with me there…" His jaw tightened almost to the point of pain as he paused.

"I believe my influence has anchored us here. I mentioned being grateful before, yes? Well, the day we arrived, the first time around, my younger self had called my best friend, my sister, my whole world at the time, an awful slur. This time, as you know, I did not. But originally, that was the turning point of my life. The catalyst to a chain reaction of events, each one somehow worse than the last.

"I believe the number of times I have revisited the memory created a charged emotional significance that brought us here. It is I who must apologize, my fault that you are so far from your timeline.”

He found himself standing amidst his apology, despite how neutral he had attempted to make it, and bowed to her with a fist over his heart. It felt like the right gesture, somehow. 

Looking up as he straightened, Hermione had her hands pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. However, her expression was one of rage. He knew he deserved it, and whatever punishment or servitude she saw fit to assign him.

Half-turning away, he braced himself. 

“You-big-stupid-I-DI-OT!”

Each beat of her sentence was punctuated by her tiny fists railing against his shoulder.

They didn’t hurt, however, and he was midway through trying to figure out if she was sick in some way, and not inflicting any damage because of it or what, when she sobbed,

“Don’t you see? You saved me!” He blinked at her, and she set her jaw. Sniffing angrily and wiping her tears all the while, she manhandled him into his seat once more, standing with her arms folded in front of him.

“Who here knows what time travel feels like, hmm? Me.

"And not whatever magic-take-the-wheel kinda bullshit that got us here; Time Turner magic. Therefore, I believe I have a right to decide whether or not your being there was beneficial!

"I was so far down the rabbit hole, so unstable after my abuse of it, I couldn’t have told you where I was, much less _ when _ I was, half the time. In the worst moments, I was so dissociated with reality, I didn’t even know _ who _ I was, for Morgana’s sake! All this loss I’m feeling now that we have arrived? I had already lost everything before the Time Event occurred." Raking her sleeve across her eyes, she barely slowed.

"Every interpersonal connection I had before was different, broken. I wasn’t just a year older than my friends, I was four years older! I was an adult where my parents had expected a child. All that my classes and teachers would have offered over the years, I’d gone off and learned alone!" At this, her clear voice broke.

"I was adrift, and I can tell you right now, if you hadn’t been there to anchor me, I would have been lost to the tides of time, born in that timeline or not. Can you imagine, a stray thought about a cat, dragging you through time to the same era -though still here- as Ancient Egypt, because they happened to worship cats at the time?

"What if I arrived in a time where the Hogwarts grounds were underwater?" He sucked in a breath, as he hadn't considered that possibility.

"And who’s to say I wouldn’t have continued to drift, if I couldn’t recognize where I was, leading to more confused magic?”

Standing above him, her chest rising and falling rapidly with the passion of her rant, her magic overflowed, making her hair look as if she were underwater, suddenly weightless about her head.

He wasn’t sure he could keep his mask up, in the face of her torrent of emotion. It was astonishing, and awe-inspiring. Here she was, defending him from her actions, defending him from _ himself _, without hesitation.

How many times since they had met in their new reality had she touched him, comforted him, understood? It made him want to discard his human form, and the expectations-rules-society that came with it so he could throw himself at her mercy, beg for more of her warmth. He was suddenly desperately jealous of her former cat. 

“So yeah. Thank you. Thank you for caring enough about that moment, so I’m not too far from home." Calmer now, her voice was steady.

"Now we can change the course of the war, and hopefully, change the lives of the people I knew, even if I never get the chance to know them in the same way I used to. I can still see my mom and dad, even though I suppose they aren’t mom and dad, now. And, most of all, no matter when we may have ended up in time, with you here, at least I’m not alone!”

Her smile was backwards, it was genuine in her eyes, but also soft and a bit melancholy, going by the shape of her mouth. Usually, it was the other way around, with some people.

The eyes usually held the pain, but she let her emotions of the moment have their place, shining from her eyes, her sincere joy to have a familiar person, someone who remembered at least a portion of her existence, there with her.

Her full lips held the melancholy for later. He wanted to steal it from them.

The last thought made him internally double-take, but as he could see her anxiety ratcheting up a notch every moment she waited for his response, he rushed to break the silence.

“I believe I must concede to your point, Hermione. Thank you for seeing it that way... and I suppose I should say, you’re welcome?” He hated how unsure he sounded, she deserved for him to be direct, as she had been. “...It isn’t an ideal situation, however, I am honestly glad that we both survived.”

She perked up immediately, and bounced back into her seat with a silly grin on her face.

“If you still experience any moments of guilt, you can repay me with intellectual conversation! Shouldn’t be too hard, knowing you, right? It has always seemed in short supply, moreso now than ever! Now, where were we?” Settling fully back into his seat, he allowed a small smile to escape for her sheer cheek.

He couldn’t tell if he had achieved his goal of keeping her at a distance, but it didn’t seem anywhere near as important, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I add fluff to the tags? I should probably add fluff to the tags. Heheh


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I want to be magic. I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile. I want to be a friend of elves and live in a tree. Or under a hill. I want to marry a moonbeam and hear the stars sing. I don't want to pretend at magic anymore. I want to be magic.”  
― Charles de Lint

**HG**

Exiting the abandoned classroom had been a jarring reality check. She could tell it was the same for him; Outside of their private conversations, they were supposed to be children, they were surrounded. By. Children. She hadn’t realized how badly she had craved adult, intelligent, conversation until she’d had a glimpse of it.

Leaving his side to go to their respective dorms made her feel very small and alone. She had always taken pride in ‘not needing people,’ so this sudden flare of dependency was uncomfortable.

Even with Harry and Ron, they had needed _her,_ for the most part, not so much the other way around. She knew she was kidding herself, and she had, of course, needed them too, but it was the feeling that was different.

Probably because, as much as she hated to admit it, she _was _ ‘small and alone,’ and the tiniest part of her wanted to need him, to rely on his impossible strength. The anger returned, though this time, it was no longer directed at him. Squashing and stuffing her want mercilessly to the back of her mind, she knew exactly who to be mad at; herself.

Having romantic, needy thoughts when her mission was so critical, how _could _she?

Even if she lived to see Voldemort stopped, there was so much more to prioritize! She had only recently found her ‘thing’, learning of the Elemental Magics, and she knew -somehow- that it was big enough, important enough, _ meaningful _ enough, that she could devote her entire life to it.

How could there be room for romance? How did other people do it? ‘Romance vs. Purpose’ seemed to her like an impossible choice, as she knew she was a romantic, and could never be fully practical, as much as she had forced herself to be as a child.

She craved adventure, knowledge, and all things passionate and beautiful, romance being one of them. It was likely why, during her self-study, she had discovered her Patronus to be an otter, an animal that shared many of her values.

She sighed, climbing the steps to Ravenclaw Tower, deciding she would have her whole life to grapple with that particular dilemma.

On another note, she was blindingly happy that Snape had been able to give her somewhere to start in her study of the Elemental Magics. She knew it wasn’t her top priority, but she couldn’t get the thought out of her head, that they could bring new things to light in the fight against Voldemort. 

He’d instructed her to sit in a place surrounded by clear representatives of the four elements, and meditate while allowing her magic to overflow, reach out to them.

It was a tad vague when he told her she would ‘just know’, but she had to start somewhere. What was also entirely fascinating, people _could _have two affinities, Snape included. A Fire affinity suited him as his second, she'd thought, when he described his affinities.

Even the way he moved fit his affinities.

No matter if he walked, ran, or simply paced about the room, his robes billowed, more than any other grown wizard she had yet seen, even though the fabric of his robes was heavy. And also, she remembered from the evening she held him, incredibly soft, for some reason.

Despite his flowing grace, he possessed a sharpness and intensity, in his demeanor and gaze, specifically when impassioned, that clearly demonstrated the fire inside of him. She felt like she understood him better, in a way.

She hoped to learn more about herself, too, if she discovered her affinity.

Hermione was reasonably sure, as she sat on a window seat on the dorm, that all four elements were close enough. The fireplace was lit, she had opened the window to let in the breeze, one of her roommates had some potted plants growing, and the window looked out over the Black Lake. Good.

Nearly endless time to herself had meant frequent boredom in her third year, and one of the best things for boredom was music. A cross between Pensieve charms, Sonorus, and Silencio had helped her create what she dubbed the ‘Head-Phonic’ charm, allowing her to listen to the songs her subconscious remembered without broadcasting the sounds resulting from the Pensieve/Sonorus cross.

It was a bit tricky if she didn’t remember all the words, but she only wanted instrumental music at the moment, anyways. Classical music, or contemporary classical, was the best meditation music, for her.

Falling into herself had always come easily to her, sometimes too easily, but the opposite was difficult.

She had struggled immensely while practicing her wandless and silent casting, to force her awareness of her magic into the physical world. It took months of careful meditation for it to click. She’d had to use her memories of magic from before she knew she was a witch, when she hadn’t gotten her emotions under control.

It had been honestly terrifying, to give the control of her magic over to her emotions to practice.

She was -disturbingly- a little bit grateful for her ‘year of the Time-Turner’. For her it was years of observation of the world from outside, getting to know herself again without restricting herself for others, or out of fear. Now, technically an adult, she felt comfortable in her own skin in a way she hadn’t before, and her grasp on her magic was much clearer.

So it was with relative ease that she could now let her magic reach out, to feel about her surroundings.

Snape had said that even simple awareness of the Elemental Magics was enough for her subconscious and magic to naturally seek out what she was looking for. Following the music into her trance, Hermione let herself sit and be present within her body for a while, just breathing.

A lot of people assumed that one had to completely erase their thoughts in order to meditate. Not only was this nearly impossible, she also found it wasn’t true at all.

Focusing on the breath and the body wasn’t something her brain was used to, but it was easy, and it gently forced her to be present, and allowed her thoughts to relax and wander. She allowed whatever thoughts she had to visit, and move on, for a while. When she was aware of her breath, but no longer aware of her physical position and most external influences, she knew she was ready to guide her wandering thoughts towards the actual goal of the exercise.

She imagined that sending out her magic was a bit similar to the feeling of echolocation, for the animals that used it.

Learning to control and direct it for wandless magic had been a very hit and miss process, literally. She would send out her intent, an Accio, etcetera, to the object in front of her, but as her magic had been unfocused, oftentimes she’d summoned the pillow in front of her, but received a mountain of them from all about the room!

Now that the goal wasn’t to focus, it was a more intuitive, exploratory feeling.

She first felt the breeze, moving through her awareness of her magic. It was soft and gentle, and not at all what wind usually felt like physically, on her skin.

To her magic, it felt like… watching the boys practice Quidditch, if that feeling could be meshed with the texture of velvet. Although she could feel it’s magic, she felt no deep connection.

The fire felt like Harry, plain and simple. Not too surprising, she had already suspected that to be his affinity. Warm, sometimes too intense. Again, no connection.

It wasn’t disappointing, as she was just happy to be able to recognize the elemental magics around her, now that she knew what to search for. She didn’t know what she’d do though, if she didn’t feel a connection with one of the next two.

She didn’t have to wait long, however, as her expanding awareness of her magic touched the plants.

Nearly falling out of her seat in surprise, she felt, rather than heard, their greetings; warm, glowing things. It was clearer now, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Just being outside, all her life, had been enough to feel this, this pure exaltation of being alive, in nature.

She hadn’t known it had been the life in her responding to the life around her, calling back and forth, recognizing each other, it seemed. Hermione guessed that flowers, taken individually, probably felt different from trees, and trees were very different from mountains.

Clumsily, she tried to send a greeting back. An Earth affinity, how exciting!

In her enthusiasm, however, it seemed she hadn’t aimed very well. There was little warning, just a swooping, rushing feeling in her gut when her greeting reached the Black Lake, before she was swept away.

Not only a greeting, but a _ oneness, _this time. As if she was the water. The mental images and impressions flashing behind her eyes were too much to sort through, and her last thought was echoing and strange.

‘_How beautiful…'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Cliff Hanger, hanging from a cliff! And that's why he's called Cliff Hanger!~  
Does anyone remember "Between the Lions"?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what wonders to witness!
> 
> Edit: Ahhh! 6000 hits! I'm blown away. (yes I know it's more logical to celebrate reaching 5000, but I don't like the number 5, so there! Hehe) Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this little story!

**SS**

Steal the melancholy from her lips? What kind of Hufflepuff-wish-washery was that? Hand tangled in his hair, he gave a firm tug, as if he could take the thought back out of his head.

The _fuck, _ Snape? What is your _issue? _ Self-berating thoughts looped on repeat; after leaving her side, reality had come crashing back in. 

Was he honestly this weak? Stumbling into infatuated thoughts the moment someone showed him a glimmer of kindness? As uncomfortable as the idea was, it was better than the alternative. If these feelings weren’t brought on by his weakness, and were genuine… What was he doing?

The only comfort he could take from the confusion was tied to the fact that his attraction to her, his urge to stay by her side, seemed to be based off of emotions more valid than simple lust, though he couldn’t accurately describe them, so far. Otherwise, he would truly be sick in the head, not just a crazy idiot.

Wouldn’t he?

Severus supposed that she was, in fact, an adult, and the only one of his students he had ever held an engaging conversation with, but in the end, it was too conflicting to consider. In a move he hadn’t made since arriving in 1975, he began creating an Occlumency shield in his mind to stow the confusion behind. Maybe if he could ignore the feelings...

His concentration failed abruptly, before he could finish, when a pulse of magic rang through the Slytherin common room. It came from the windows that looked out below the surface of the lake. 

“_Shit_, Hermione!” 

He was on his feet before he had even fully processed what was happening. It hadn’t occurred to him when he’d told her how, that she’d try finding her affinity so soon, much less succeed so quickly. Her success was not what had him sprinting through the castle, though.

It was the power of it. It felt like her magic, but uncontrolled, wild. Following the magic like a homing beacon, he summoned every hint of breeze, every draft in the castle to his aid. It wasn’t enough for flight, indoors was generally more difficult that way, but it gave him an inhuman speed, made him lighter. 

If he’d had a moment to think, he would’ve enjoyed this. It was the same technique that allowed him to react as quickly as he did in the classroom, when the dunderheads melted a cauldron, or decided that the point of the lesson was explosions. To be the first on the scene in emergencies, the first to catch students out of bed. It could even be one of the reasons the students called him a ‘dungeon bat,’ though he gave less then a flying fuck-waffle about that. It was damned useful.

He wouldn’t have been able to save the Potter-Weasley-Granger trio in the Shrieking Shack without employing it.

However, he couldn’t use it on a regular basis. Elemental magic, being one of the most powerful magics, was draining, and originally meant to be performed by groups that represented each of the four types. As everything was connected, calling on one element alone could pull things out of balance, and the caster’s energy was used to restore it. 

Miss Granger may have come into her adult magic, but the fact he’d felt it in the dungeons meant she had definitely lost control, and could drain herself dangerously.

The castle had always understood his urgency, and steps that may usually be trick steps, or corridors that usually like to be dead ends, weren’t, for him. He burst onto the grounds in time to catch sight of a figure reaching the edge of the lake, and feel the resulting pulse of magic, joyous this time, clearly due to the fact that she had arrived at the water.

Cursing the lone cloud hiding the moon as his eyes adjusted, he barely slowed. Reaching the edge of the lake, what he saw before him took his breath away.

Trance-like, she walked. Under the starry sky, not making a single ripple on the reflective surface of the lake, her steps were _ on top _ of the water, not through it.

“Miss Granger!” When he found his voice again, it was breathless. “Stop this, girl! You’re in danger!”

Her hair once again floated around her head, and even her night-things, a loose tank top and shorts, looked to be released from the gravity that existed on dry land as they flowed around her. Slowly, she turned around, and he released a tension-filled breath, thinking she had heard him.

The waves of magic coming off of her did not lessen, however.

Facing him now, her posture was regal. He had no idea how she’d made it to the lake with her eyes closed. When it was clear that she wouldn’t respond, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Shucking the most cumbersome of his clothes, he stepped cautiously into the lake, bracing himself against the cold. When the first of the waves he caused reached her, her eyes snapped open.

He froze, half in surprise, and half in animalistic, instinctual fear. Her eyes were filled with a solid, glowing blue, without any irises or pupils to be seen. She was lost to her element.

Putting every ounce of urgency and volume he could into his voice, no longer breathless, he called,

“Come back, Miss Granger, now! Hermione!” Her head jerked when he spoke her name, and he moved carefully closer, deeper. More waves reached her, and she looked to her feet. Raising her head to look at him again, he was weak with relief when he saw that her eyes, confused as they were, were her own.

Reaching for him, she called out in fear, “Severus, help!” She took a stumbling step forward, and another, before her magic flickered out, along with her consciousness, and she fell forward into the cold lake.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He dove, swimming as fast as he could so as not to lose her in the dark, snagging her about the waist, and dragging her to shore. Barely pausing for breath, he conjured a stretcher to levitate her to the castle, pushing his limited energy reserves to their limits after his already exhausting day, and ran once more, wind on his heels.

Blasting the doors of the Hospital Wing open, he scared the ‘ever-loving-daylights’ out of Madam Pomfrey’s assistant, Ms. Fitz-whatsit-face, or something, he couldn’t care less. 

Laying her in an available cot, he marveled at how heavy and long her hair was when wet, as he moved it out of the way. It was incredibly soft. Collapsing to sit on the neighbouring bed, all the adrenaline of the evening disappeared, his body felt heavy.

Taking calming breaths as he waited for Poppy, he felt himself slipping. Noticing her soaked, thin clothes, he belatedly remembered to cover her. What an impractical set of sleep-clothes.

Clenching his teeth, his shivering intensified, and he allowed himself to lean back in his cot, to wrap the sheets around himself ...just for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus? Is that you?


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sleepy in-between moment... they've had a busy week!

**HG**

Hermione’s dreams were sound and movement, echoes and stillness. She felt warm and safe, cradled in fluid pressure. In her moments of semi-clarity, she wondered how long it had been. She could never find the right motivation to force her way awake, either.

It was so quiet and calm, here. It had been too long since she’d rested.

\--

**SS**

Severus was beginning to feel like a caged animal. Why wouldn’t she wake? After his night in the Hospital Wing, Poppy had awarded him ‘50 points to Slytherin,’ and the knowledge that Miss Granger just needed rest.

There would be no permanent effects from her moonlit escapade, and she would recover easily. He had even checked himself, in secret.

So why did she continue to sleep? He realized he was one to talk, on some level, for there were many failed potions experiments and duels in his past that had sent him into even week-long comas while he recovered.

But for someone who had hardly been harmed, he thought, as he paced in his dorms on Sunday night, a whole weekend was too long.

Monday also brought the full moon, and Lupin would be brought in to heal. He knew the wolf would have no reason to target Hermione, but his anxiety was climbing steadily at the thought of them together in the Hospital Wing, his old traumas associated with the boy likely fueling it.

Not knowing what exactly his goal was, he decided he would visit her in the Hospital Wing, and dug through his clothes for his robes. A strange texture met his unsuspecting fingers, and he jumped back in surprise.

It was slippery and soft, and he saw, as he looked closer, that it was simply fabric of some sort. After a barrage of revealing spells, which came up with nothing, he snagged it.

Ah, he should have remembered! The invisibility cloak. She must have sent it with the house-elf that brought him to his rooms, the night she had held him. 

“Hermione, you sneaky devil.” He muttered, amused, as he swept it over his shoulders. She continued to surprise him. Had he been in her shoes, he wasn’t sure if he would have given up such a useful tool.

A minor change of plans later, he was on his way to the Owlery.

\--

**HG**

She had fought her way to the surface of her consciousness once, recently-ish, when Madam Pomfrey had been braiding her hair back off of her face. Her hands felt wonderful in her hair, and before sinking back under, she’d realized she was more touch-starved than she’d known.

Now, Hermione was too tired from her earlier trip to ‘the surface,’ her thoughts much too easy-slow-accepting to return for now, but there was someone there, she could recognize that much.

Their hand was warm in hers, and wasn’t a Madam Pomfrey hand, but it was gentle. She was simply too sleepy to find out whose hand it was, but she was grateful nonetheless.

\--

**SS**

He had quickly penned a note to his mother in the Owlery, asking if she was alright with him skipping some classes for personal reasons, and if she’d be able to cover for him.

He knew she would be, and he loved his mother all the more, knowing that she wouldn’t question what the ‘personal reasons’ might be. Then he’d entered the Hospital Wing under the cover of the invisibility cloak, taking care to also Disillusion himself and silence his footsteps.

No matter how powerful the cloak was, he didn’t trust it to completely hide his presence.

The cloak and his mother’s help would allow him to stand watch over Hermione. He blamed himself for her situation, a knee-jerk reaction at this point. He knew, logically, that she was a fellow adult and could take responsibility for the choices she made that got her into this situation, but the fact that it was while using the information he’d given her… It was hard to resolve his guilt, especially as her former teacher.

Looking down at her sleeping form, he noticed her hair had been braided. A twinge of disappointment pulled at him and he frowned, confused as to why. 

After a quick cushioning charm on the floor beside her cot, he propped up his back against the bed, glad for his young body’s flexibility. As an adult, the only reasons he’d ever be on the ground overnight were usually tied to nasty curses, or the one summer in the 80s where he’d traveled to the Pacific Northwest in search of rare seaweeds for ingredients, and was introduced to cannabis by the local magical community of the islands.

The age of ‘Hippies,’ though over in the rest of the world, had stuck around in that area. 

Laying on the ground while stoned had not only seemed like ‘_the best idea EVER, the ground is our friend, and now we can look at the stars’, _it hadn’t been uncomfortable, either. He had to say, it was much better than being drunk.

It had been his father’s vice, drinking, and he’d attempted to steer well clear it. Of course, he’d gotten dragged along and pressured into it after joining the Death Eaters. The absolute lack of higher reasoning it caused, plus the headache he’d had in the morning, convinced him quickly that he wouldn’t be trying it again.

He couldn’t say the same about weed though. That was a genuinely good time, and he hadn’t lost himself despite being under the influence.

He had a tiny theory that Pomona had some growing in her private greenhouses, but wasn’t particularly tempted to snoop and find out. Professor Sprout was one mean lady when crossed.

Something whapped him limply on the side of the head, startling him out of his thoughts. It was just Hermione’s hand, slipped off the side of the bed, coming to rest at an interesting angle on his chest.

He knew it could give away his position, but he’d set wards to alert him to any movement in the infirmary. So, he covered her hand with his, crossing his other arm underneath it for support, and settled in for the night. 

It was an almost irresistible urge, holding onto her. Seeing her asleep had reminded him of just how tiny she was, how lost and alone she must feel in a time not her own.

His excuse that he ‘needed to keep an eye on Lupin’ be damned, he was glad he could be there to watch over her, at the very least.

\--

**HG**

Hermione drifted into consciousness again, to what appeared to be an early-morning sunrise, though she couldn’t be sure of the time. Her hand was trapped in something, and her groggy mind tried to figure out why.

Oh, the hand. It didn’t take her long to suss out that it was a sleeping Severus’, despite not being able to see it. Her blush flared up so quickly that she got dizzy. What a sweet, sweet boy...

Why were they in the Hospital Wing again? Her analytical thoughts were quickly turning to molasses.

Almost nodding off upright, she absentmindedly leaned over to press a sleepy kiss to the top of his invisible head, patting weakly where her lips had landed in delirious satisfaction, using her free hand, before passing out again with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gryffindors approacheth! Ye gods, we must verily beware!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, you are one scary lady.  
;)

**SS**

When Poppy brought Lupin in, early Tuesday morning, Severus almost wished he could reveal his knowledge of Wolfsbane. Almost.

The wolf looked haggard, his human skin pale and sickly. Standing behind Hermione’s headboard, he didn’t take his eyes off of him as he crossed the room towards a cot more separate from the rest, likely for his privacy. 

Something made Lupin pause as he passed Hermione. Wondering who, exactly, was the wolf in this situation, Severus felt his hackles rise as he grit his teeth. Maybe it was just curiosity, or Lupin's werewolf instincts recognized the wild magic lingering about the girl. But whatever it was, he didn’t fucking like it.

Amidst his distaste, something seemed to be coming over Lupin.

His shoulders, which had been up around his ears in defence against the fatigue, pain, and general vulnerability that came with the aftermath of the transformation, relaxed. Gaining some colour in his face, he straightened, and frowned down at the sleeping girl, head to the side in confusion.

Before Severus could analyze this further, Poppy ushered the boy over to his cot, with a signature ‘no lollygagging about, young man.’

It was a full five minutes before he could relax, after that. Taking stock of his emotions, he realized his tension felt much less stomach-turning and weak. It was closer to how he felt when defending his students, but that wasn’t it either.

It was a galvanizing protectiveness, as if he could take on the weight of the sky without bending, or become an immovable obstacle in the way of all those that may seek to harm... her. It all came back to her.

It was that Gods-damned adorable kiss! That was why. She must have been delirious, thinking he was someone else. He shouldn’t have held her hand.

Because of it, he had been rooted to the spot when she woke, feigning sleep as he stared, still invisible, at her face. Half her hair had escaped during the night, and the way she rubbed at her sleepy eyes was nearly too much for him to handle.

When she looked at their joined hands, he’d thought it was all over, that he’d have to Obliviate her.

But she’d just smiled a fond smile, and leaned forward. Her nightclothes had gotten tangled, exposing more of her soft skin, the curve of her waist to her hips. As she had leaned ever closer, he wasn’t just frozen, but mesmerized.

He’d nearly jumped when her soft lips pressed to his forehead, but managed to keep it under control. His heart rate hadn’t subsided until the sun was much higher in the sky.

Severus, obviously, had not held her hand again. Thinking of it now only caused him to cringe, and so, by lunchtime on Tuesday, after a day and a half of avoiding the thought unsuccessfully, he was a _tiny_ fraction relieved when the rest of the idiots arrived for Lupin.

\--

**HG... ?**

Hermione would have been a bit sad, had she been awake, she thought, when Severus didn’t take her hand again. But she wasn’t awake, she was sleeping under a blanket of warmth and safety, so it was okay.

And at least he hadn’t left, she could feel his presence. In the infirmary, there had been other hurting presences, like her, and she felt her blanket respond to her wish to bring them under it with her, so they could be fixed too.

Fixed? Oh, right, yes. She needed fixing.

Sometimes, her conscious self came through and started asking all the anxious questions it thought it needed to, but her blanket helped to put them away again. Consciousness was happening more now, as the fixing finished up it's work, and she pulled herself resolutely deeper.

It was so nice here… why couldn’t she stay? She had everything she needed; Her blanket, and her sentinel.

When the wounded-wild-one came in, she felt her sentinel, Severus, become more turbulent and tense. His careful vigilance made parts of her under the blanket squirm about, squealing and giggling into their metaphorical pillows, ecstatic to receive his unwavering care and concern.

But his sudden change from a silent guardian to a warrior prepared for battle tugged her consciousness closer to the surface. What was happening, outside the blanket, that worried him so?

Suddenly, she understood. Three new presences arrived, deafeningly chaotic and pushy presences at that. One was a sneaky, parasitic kind of chaos, pushing and worming its way into the room, while the other two resonated on the same frequency, brassy and brash.

She felt Severus’ turbulence increase, in some ways, but decrease, likely because he was familiar with the… Maurauders? Letting her conscious self listen into the voices in the room, she confirmed it.

That, however, was a mistake. Freeing her consciousness was slowly allowing the blanket to slip away, the more she listened. They were so loud!

“Back in your throne, are ya, Moony? I’m so jealousss!” Sirius whined, like the dog he was. “You don’t just get to skip classes, you’ve got a pretty neighbour-bird over there! Isn’t that the new girl? Check out the tits on her!” She could feel her sentinel becoming agitated, up in arms about the silly boy’s comment.

“Quit it, Pads, come on. But, you know… there was something about her. When I…” The wounded-wild-one; Remus, she now realized, he must have felt her blanket when he came in after his full-moon night.

“Moony’s got a cru-ush!” James chimed in now, and despite Remus’ protests, the others joined him, their volume rising steadily. The rat’s wet, high-pitched sniggering grated on her nerves.

No, no, no! She didn’t want to wake up. Oh, those awful boys! Trying to wish her warm blanket back into place, she poured her magic into it.

She was steadily growing more frustrated, and as Severus’ annoyance reached a fever pitch, she snapped.

Throwing her sheets off, she jumped to stand on the end of the bed, stretching up to her full height, ready to tell them off.

\--

**SS**

Severus’ agitation with the boys had distracted him from Hermione’s waking. He therefore had next to no time to react when she suddenly burst into motion.

Nearly tripping over himself to stay close enough to catch her if she fell, he found himself looking up at her from the foot of the bed, fighting with the urge to kneel in submission to the rage radiating off of her in waves. Once more, her eyes were filled with glowing blue, however, instead of floating, her hair was now writhing angrily, like so many curling snakes.

_ “She was _ TRYING _ to SLEEP, YOU INSOLENT FOOLS!” _Her exclamation was slightly deeper than her normal tones, echoing around the room with enough force that he felt the vibrations in his chest.

Quick as you please, she hopped down off the bed and sat, hair back to normal, blinking the blue away.

He used the moment of shock she’d caused to shuck the layers masking his presence, and step out, ‘from behind the corner’, walking as calmly as he could appear, to sit beside her. Oblivious to the effect she’d had, she looked up at him with her warm brown-again eyes, seemingly energized and content.

“She? Did I say that? I meant _ I _ was trying to sleep. You know, it doesn’t feel as important now, anyways.” She smiled sheepishly. Severus couldn’t come up with an answer to that, he was still trying to process the shock of her instant recovery.

Remembering the boys were still there, she glanced over and flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry for yelling, that was wrong of me, especially in the infirmary.”

Belatedly, he looked over to the Marauders to gauge their reactions, to see if they needed Obliviating, or a quick Confundus. Mouths agape, the overall consensus had been to freeze in the face of danger, and by the looks of it, that decision hadn’t worn off.

\--

**HG**

She didn’t remember much from her time asleep, it had been mostly dreamlike with few clear moments, but she had begun pushing to wake up for… awhile now. Some part of herself had been very determined to stop her. Maybe she had let her frustration run away from her, she hadn’t meant to be so loud. She’d been called a harpy a good few times in her life, she should know better. 

After apologizing, she looked closer at their frozen faces. The abject terror she saw there seemed so out of place that she almost laughed. Was it something she’d said? 

“Are you... okay?” She asked, tentatively. With a whimper, Pettigrew ran off, but not before she saw he had soiled his pants. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Severus fighting laughter.

“Remind me, Hermione, never to wake you before you decide you want to.” Weird. Why had he made a point of using her first name, and so clearly, in front of everyone? 

The laughter colouring his tone convinced her it couldn’t have been _ that _ bad. Maybe they were scared of her bedhead? She knew she could look pretty freaky in the mornings, with hair everywhere. Putting a hand self-consciously to her head, she was about to continue when they tugged the curtains around Remus’ cot, effectively cutting off communication. Huh. Maybe she’d never understand boys.

Madame Pomfrey marched over to join them.

“What’s all the commotion? Have you awakened, then, Miss Granger? Wonderful. Oh, and Mister Snape, when did you arrive? Thank you again for rescuing this young lady.” Rescuing? Why had she needed rescuing? Turning back to her, Madam Pomfrey looked as if she was about to provide her answer. “What were you thinking, practicing your wandless magic alone, unsupervised? And down by the lake as well! At night! You’re lucky Mister Snape was nearby when you pushed it too far and lost consciousness and fell in, you could have drowned!”

_ Oh. _ Now she remembered. Severus must have given Madam Pomfrey the alternate story. She remembered the water sweeping her away, and a flash of looking down on a shirtless - _ shirtless! _\- Severus wading towards her. (She’d have to save that image for later, good gods)

She had been… standing on the lake? Yes, it appeared to be true.

The matron’s health checks ended, and she was pronounced ‘well enough, though I’d like to keep her here until I’m sure’ but Severus gave Pomfrey a meaningful look, and she relented. Before she knew it, he had snagged her hand in his and was tugging her insistently out of the door.

She didn’t have much time to register her surroundings, but as they left the infirmary, she could hear urgent whispers coming from behind Remus’ curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOH, Severus, what's going on? Your first in-public use of her first name? Hand holding? Do we sense some... Possessiveness??


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the sweet smell of aggressive concern in the morning...

**HG**

They hadn’t paused as Severus led her back to the classroom that she had started referring to as ‘theirs’ in her head. He was silent as they entered, stony-faced. Dropping her hand to Ward the room, it wasn’t long before he turned to her.

Stalking purposely to loom over her, it took some will to stand her ground as he took out his wand. Still, he was silent, as she felt his magic wash over her. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her about-face, and repeated the process. It felt similar to the spells Madame Pomfrey used to check for injuries, and vital signs.

Facing him again, she opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but the words died on her tongue when she met his eyes once more.

“_What _ in the bloody, buggering hellfire was _ that_, Hermione?!” It seemed he had worked himself into quite a state, waiting on her to wake. “I give you one piece of advice, and you go fucking nuclear? You could have died! And then what, you’re out for over 72 hours, and now you’re just _ fine_? Of all the insufferable, infuriating, impossible… Agh!”

Raking a hand over his face, he snarled his way over to collapse in his corner-chair, hands supporting his head with his fingers embedded in his hair.

“Well, excuse me for making a fucking mistake! How are you even surprised, at this point? It’s not as if you haven’t already witnessed the biggest screw-ups of my life, this year, not to mention before.” Hermione’s angry ire rose to meet his.

“Me? How am _ I _ surprised? What about the idiots in the hospital that saw that, that outburst of yours?” His expression had twisted nastily, reminding her of his time as her professor.

“What do you mean, ‘that outburst’? Why would it matter what they saw?” Gritting her teeth, she glared at him, hating that he would turn on her like this, even if it was obviously out of concern.

“You-! ...Ah. Do I have your permission to use Legilimency?”

His fierce expression became several shades more exhausted, his words short, voice gruff and stained with some sort of apology, though she wasn’t sure what for.

“Fine. Do your worst.” She only just kept from pursing her lips, her patience with his lack of explanation wearing thin.

Resolutely throwing up her internal defenses, she was sure he would get no further than she allowed, no matter how much she did trust him, she had no idea what to expect. Raising her chin, she met his eyes squarely.

When it appeared that he was simply showing her his memory of the events, she was able to relax a bit. She felt her jaw slacken in surprise, however, as the scenes unfolded.

What was that, indeed! Holy shit.

In a weak attempt to hold her incredulous panic at bay, she tried to ignore that it was _her _up there, stepping along the water, not her with the glowing eyes or the stern features. When they entered his memory of the incident in the Hospital Wing, she wanted to flinch away.

Who was that? Was this dangerous… thing, a part of her? Trying to understand, there was only one thing she could say when he pulled his memories away.

“Again.”

Trying to reconcile what she saw, with her own limited memories, as his played through once more, she was glad to realize that it had still been her making most of the decisions, despite said part of her being scarily uninhibited, and accepting of the strange magics that flowed through her.

She would have to look deeper into why she remembered getting ‘fixed,’ according to some of her clear glimpses of memory.

Asking him, slightly less stiffly, to allow her to look one last time, and this time, noticed something that warmed her, deep within her lower belly. In his haste, he had neglected to give her an objective version of his memories. She could still feel echoes of how he had felt that night.

Despite the overwhelming echo of his adrenaline, she felt a wave of his attraction, just for a moment, both during his experience of the night of the lake, and this morning, so small he might not notice it himself.

The speed with which that _tiny_ confirmation of a _sliver_ of his maybe-reciprocated feelings made her squirm in delight, scared her, and she slammed her outermost Occlumency walls down, effectively knocking him back out of her head.

“So?” He snapped, disgruntled and blinking, after getting shut off so abruptly, “Do you understand now?”

“Oh I more than understand, Severus. But you could have explained. I don’t care how much urgency you’re feeling, it is no reason to treat me that way.” Pointedly, she crossed her arms, waiting for an apology.

“Had I the bloody _wherewithal_, I would take the time to say ‘I’m sorry,’ you ridiculous girl. But at this moment, our energies are best directed to what action we need to take next! How in the world do you expect to handle the fallout of what those boys saw? They’ll be on their guard now, I missed the opportunity to Obliviate them when Poppy arrived, it won’t be possible now.”

He hissed at her exasperatedly, and had she not fully agreed with his need for concern about the boys, she would have taken a moment to smirk at the hidden apology in his words. Sneaky Slytherin.

Remembering the fear on the Marauders' faces, she cringed at the thought of facing that part of herself, facing these newfound magics. 

“I just… need some time. I don’t understand this,” she found herself saying.

“I see. Fine. Just know that the rumors they start will only stay rumors when there is no evidence to feed them. You will avoid seeing or interacting with me at all costs, they saw me there. No need to fuel the flames with them connecting the two of us. Their hatred of me will only make things worse.”

His response was clipped and sharp, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Agreeing with him made her chest ache, a chasm of empty, terrifying loneliness opening up. “Seek out Pomona, or Rubeus. Out of all the staff, they are the most in tune with their elements, and will not lead you astray, if you wish to continue your study.”

Vowing to eradicate any rumors that arose, and elevate herself beyond suspicion with the Gryffindors, somehow, she knew she had to prove him wrong, so they could work together again, towards their real goal. He was just scared. She’d show him.

She would.

\--

**SS**

She’d done it. She really had. It frustrated him to no end that she was so diligent in following his instructions, she hadn’t once even met his eye, after that day.

He hadn’t noticed at the time, but he had so confidently told her what needed doing to manage the incident, because he believed she would have fought him on it, or found a way to contact him despite it. 

Now, she hadn’t sought him out, and all he could do was speculate. How was she dealing with the rumors, was she recovering from her ordeal? She was in his thoughts so often, that he had recently begun _dreaming _of her.

Jerking awake, Severus breathed heavily, and endeavoured to ignore his raging erection.

Damn teenage hormones. He had dreamed of her, in all her curved softness, naked this time, on the lake, open arms tempting him closer. He couldn’t get the feeling of her hair out of his head, nor the delicate touch of her hand in his.

He knew, and craved, the press of her against his body, from the time she held him, from when he’d carried her. Her mind, her power, her kindness and warmth. Severus felt like a man dying from starvation, like he was going insane.

She brought so much richness to his life, to have it taken away, _at his request_, was maddening.

How weak had he become? Lusting after her, he was no better than a dog. She had no reason to return, to show him her easy affection, her trust, again.

He had been cold, and rough, and cruel, so soon after such a confusing moment for her. He had been so caught up in his own fear for her, he had pushed her away. He had no right to dream of her this way.

After a cold shower, he marched himself down to the forest to harvest the ingredients for brewing Dreamless Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, they've come across their first obstacle: Themselves  
;)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione ain't got time for no rumors!

Hermione had to grudgingly admit that Severus had been right, about the rumors. Apparently, they had taken the ‘glowing blue eyes and yelling’ as a clear sign that she was ‘possessed’. 

The whispers and fear had already spread through all the Gryffindor students. However, what he had failed to expect, was how few flying fucks she gave. She had a plan. 

Let them believe she was possessed, a curse passed down through the generations, placed on her Romani -or Gypsy, if you want to be disrespectful- ancestors, by religious fanatics that fell to the dark arts to ‘cleanse the heretics.’ 

The ‘curse’ had originally been designed to force the children of each new generation to hear the screams of their ‘sinner’ ancestors as they burned in hell. Not a complete lie, as her ancestors had truly been deemed heretics, due to their Romani traditions. 

She would spin the story further to explain that the curse had failed, as her family members were not, in fact, ‘sinners,’ however, she was still possessed. ‘They’ usually keep quiet, but from time to time, especially when she feels threatened, they come out to protect her, manifesting their spiritual energy as the glowing blue in her eyes.

So, she had approached Remus with it, knowing he would be willing to hear her out.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” She kept her eyes downcast, biting her lip and fidgeting as she approached him in the library. Eyes widening, he nodded apprehensively. “In private? I don’t want anyone to overhear.”

“Alright.” Hook, line, and sinker. She had a line saved up that she knew would make him listen. Once they moved to a more secluded location, she whispered, maintaining her vulnerable, submissive posture,

“I know you’re a werewolf.”

“WHA-” She clapped a hand over his mouth as he yelped in surprise. “ _ What? _ ” He stage whispered, after she removed her hand.

“There’s no need to deny it. You know I’m possessed, I’ve heard the rumors.” Now it was his turn to look down, perhaps in shame. “Well, it’s true.”

His eyes grew wider and wider as she explained her ‘story.’

“I’m sorry they yelled at you, I can usually keep it under control. I had spent a night in the Hospital Wing for a headache, and they explained afterward that they recognized you were a werewolf, and got pretty agitated.” Wiping an imaginary tear away, she went on to say “I didn’t mean to learn your secret, and I promise I’ll keep it safe, but could you ask your friends to stop spreading the rumors? It’s okay if you tell them what it really is, they already saw them out. I promise they’re not malicious spirits at all.”

Straightening up with all the Gryffindor pride he held in his body, she could tell it was ‘hero time.’ She had seen the other girls in the Gryffindor common room using it to their advantage before, triggering the boys’ need to be knights in shining armour, for things like homework, protection from a jealous ex, just about anything. Ron had been particularly susceptible.

“Hermione, right? I’ll be sure to get them all off your back. We cursed folks’ve gotta stick together, hey?” She nodded, smiling her brightest up at him in thanks, before he rushed off to his next class.

Now that the rumor situation was taken care of, she could focus all her attention on her Elemental Magics issues. She hadn’t realized that Hagrid was actually on staff at this point in time, and learned from some of her fellow Ravenclaws that he kept to himself, patrolling the forests and taking his meals in his hut. 

She decided to seek him out first in her quest for information, since she had missed him so.

It took a few failed visits to catch him inside his hut. Without Fang yet, it seemed, he had little reason to follow any kind of schedule. She'd come prepared, a shrunken tea set in her pocket, as his hut was even less domestic now than what she was used to seeing from him, and she seriously doubted he even owned more than one set of his utilitarian dishware.

“Who goes there, then?” His booming voice rang out above her head before he looked down, down, down, to see her staring up at him with a smile. 

She had been a little shocked to see him without a beard, sporting a heavy five-o’clock-shadow instead, a thick leather strap keeping his wild hair out of his face like a headband. She was still ecstatic to get to know him again, her kind friend.

“My name’s Hermione Granger, sir, I was told to come ask you about a problem I’m having. It’s about Elemental Magic?” His face had been confused as he listened, but he started violently at the mention of ‘magic,’ and he ushered her through the door.

“Ruddy ‘ellfire, could ye keep yer voice down wi’ the magic talk? I’m no s’pposed te…” He paused. “Elemental Magic, ye say?”

She nodded eagerly, taking in the room. She was right to bring her tea, it was even more sparsely decorated than she expected. He watched her, bewildered, as she conjured herself up a chair to place opposite of his in front of the fire, and resized the tea set to place the kettle over the fire.

“Would you care for tea, Mr. Hagrid, sir?”

“I would, but don’ be callin’ me sir, and not Mr Hagrid neither, Hagrid’s the name.” Brow creased as he looked her over, she knew she was being frustratingly confusing. He sat himself down in his chair, still staring.

“Severus Snape told me to ask you. I had a bit of an accident, trying to reach out to my element. It sort of… took over?” She struggled to find the words to describe the experience.

“Ah, Mister Snape. ‘E’s been sneaking ‘round the Forest since ‘he was a wee thing, I stopped throwin’ ‘im out after I figured ‘e could handle ‘imself.” 

Hagrid chuckled heartily, and she realized he was much older than her younger self had previously assumed, really, it was a no brainer, knowing he had gone to school with Moaning Myrtle. “So, the sneaky bugger foun’ out yer in trouble, an’ sent ye te me? He was always too smart fer ‘is own good.”

He laid out his story, and though she already knew that he wasn’t supposed to use magic, she was happy to listen again. 

“... Now, ye see, I get by, bu’ Dumbledore lets it slide when I use my Elemental magic fer groundskeepin’, damned useful, it is, in my line o’ work. I’ve an Earth affinity, pretty obvious, eh?”

“Yes, I suppose it could be, to someone who knew what to look for. I think I have an Earth affinity too, but connecting with it took a turn… my Water affinity interrupted.” 

He nodded, gesturing for her to explain, and like what often happened with Hagrid and his unconditional kindness, it all came pouring out.

“...Yer sure ye don’ want te tell Dumbledore?”

“He’s already helped me so much, after my accident. I don’t want to worry him.”

And so her mentorship began. Sweet Hagrid, she tried her best not to lie to him, but danced around the topic of Dumbledore as best she could. She knew Hagrid loved and respected the Headmaster, and that the man had his good points, but she just couldn’t trust him.

She met with him multiple times over the next two weeks, learning what she could of Earth-based magic, and slowly strengthening her connection to the living things around her. 

Hagrid, she learned, had a way with communication that helped the creatures of the forest trust him, and drew his endless stamina from being surrounded by nature, where Professor Sprout, was better at helping things grow, keeping the earth fertile. 

Another ‘branch,’ (pun intended, or so said Hagrid as he caught his breath after knocking himself over with laughter at his own joke) of Earth Magics was that of healing. 

She felt rather drawn to that one, having trained herself in the Healing Arts as a precaution before, but she was still unable to do much more than reach out and say ‘hello’ to the living things in her immediate area, when it came to Elemental Magic.

She had stayed far away from exercising her Water affinity, it honestly still scared her, despite knowing that the magic had no malicious intent. But, of course, she couldn’t avoid it forever, and the time to confront it came at the end of her and Hagrid’s eighth session. 

His body language was suddenly awkward, and he couldn’t meet her eyes as he stuttered out,

“Now, it’s abou’ time ye spoke wi’ Professer Sprout. Ye have a Water affinity all paired up with yer Earth, an’ I asked th’ Centaurs, an’ they say… Erm.” 

His face was steadily getting redder and redder as he spoke, and she wondered what could be so embarrassing as to cause it. “They say, that ‘when an Earth-born is also of the Sea,’ that… oh jus’ ask Professer Sprout! Ain’t my place te be 'splainin’ this t’a young woman.” 

She found herself blushing sympathetically, though she still didn’t know what he meant.  With a promise to continue her visits, she left him, and went to find Professor Sprout in the greenhouses. It would be nice to see her again, they had gotten rather close over the summer. 

She brought up her affinities and her work with Hagrid up as casually as she could, and asked her why he had felt the need to send her to a female Professor. Jaw slackening in horror as the explanation unfolded, Hermione was beside herself.

“I’m gonna go into _what_ kind of heat?!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid, why you so adorable???
> 
> (Also, we're not gonna be trope-y about this 'heat' business, don't you worry, I gotchu)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pomona, you absolute gem!

**HG**

“Not quite _heat_, Hermione, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now, I mentioned that all elements interact with each other in different ways, correct?” Professor Sprout’s soothing tones encouraged Hermione to calm herself and listen, no matter how impossible it sounded.

“As you know, one’s Elemental affinity often influences their personality traits, and as you develop as a person over time, your own growing traits influence your secondary affinity, if one does appear.

“Your case is rather unique. One would assume that the elements of Water and Earth are complementary, and in some ways, this is true. They are both lifegiving as well as destructive, and more ‘consistent’ than Air or Fire. 

“However, the rarity of their pairing lies in the personalities that result with them. Most Earth Magic users are warm and steady, sensitive to others’ needs, practical and logical almost to a fault, and rigid when it comes to their morals and beliefs. We prefer simple, uncomplicated lives.”

Hermione nodded, recognizing those traits in herself. Her thoughts turned bittersweet at the memory of the times when her books were enough, when her life was 'simple.' Things had certainly changed.

“On the other hand,” Professor Sprout continued, “Water Magic users are the opposite. Much like their element, they are fluid, adaptable, changing moment to moment. They bring others into their ‘current,’ drawn in by their passion, and carry them along, sometimes whether they like it or not. They seek novelty, adventure, and adrenaline, and have complex, abstract inner worlds. Headmaster Dumbledore, is a prime example.”

“Professor, wouldn’t Water and Fire be the opposites? And Earth with Air?” Hermione queried, trying to ignore the fact that she herself was similar to Dumbledore.

“As purely Elements, yes, you are correct. However, we are speaking of the individual’s traits. Headmaster Dumbledore, if you don’t mind my using him as an example again, is not simply a Water Magic user, he also has an affinity for Fire. Can you guess how they are similar?”

“Well, I imagine that, personality-wise, they are both passionate elements, though Fire is more outwardly so, and less adaptable, but probably more unpredictable?” Slowly seeing her teacher’s point, Hermione’s excitement rose. Making connections always gave her a thrill. “And that would imply that Earth and Air are also similar?”

“Yes, that’s right. Not only that, but Fire and Water users tend to be individualistic, where Air and Earth users, due to their sensitivity to the others around them, cannot help but value interpersonal connections and relationships. Your pairing is rare, but so would be a combination of Fire and Air affinities.

"A person possessing those qualities has the potential to be incredibly self-destructive, since, as you know, Fire requires Air as fuel to burn, and their passion, or anger, towards others can often burn too bright.”

Hearing this, Hermione’s concern for Severus spiked. She had been so caught up in learning all she could, she hadn’t even attempted to contact him.

Self-destructive, eh? It sure explained a lot.

“Now Miss Granger, we are coming ‘round to the point of this. Where the rare pairing of Air and Fire is destructive, the pairing of Earth and Water is _ constructive_, aggressively so.” Here it was, the ‘heat’ business. She didn’t even want to think about it, but grit her teeth to brace herself.

“You hold affinities that are the base ingredients for life, within you. This affects even your physical body. Now, Earth users, like myself, are in tune with nature, and therefore, become more fertile in Spring, after the thaw, and receiving an abundance of Water, like many of the living things surrounding us.”

Blushing slightly, she chuckled as she continued. “It certainly has an effect, shall we say, on the libido, and on our chances at conception.”

As the truth dawned on her, Hermione hardly needed the last bit of explanation, she could guess what would be said.

“Now, you, my dear, are in constant connection with your Water affinity, which, in an adult woman, means that your fertility, and libido, are not limited to wait for the Spring thaw.

"Your body’s natural menstruation cycle determines when your fertility and libido will be the highest, but where it is manageable, even ignorable, for most women, you will feel it very strongly.” 

Thank Merlin it wasn’t ‘always.’

The thought of losing control once a month, however, was still terrifying. She couldn’t help but remember her summer, where she had ached, ached, _ ached _ for something, though she’d written it off as hormones. Was that feeling going to get worse?

“Don’t you worry, my dear, you have a while yet before your body will react like that. You’re only 16 after all. Happy belated birthday, by the way.” Oh, how wrong she was, thought Hermione, still grateful for the sentiment. 

“After you turn 17, you may want to come speak with me again, but you should know, that even though your body may be demanding that you “go forth and multiply,” it will in no way affect your decisions or rational mind.

"Your libido can just as easily be satisfied with, ahem, ‘self-care,’ as it would be through intercourse.” 

As Hermione slumped in relief, the older woman before her grinned in a strange combination of grandmotherly affection, embarrassment, and mischief, her Professor drew her into a hug.

“I’ll let you go about your day, love, but I know that unique affinity pairings can often result from prolonged extenuating circumstances. You know I won’t pry, but you’re always welcome to come talk to me.”

Suddenly teary-eyed, all Hermione could do was nod.

\--

**SS**

The Dreamless Sleep had taken care of his inappropriate dreams quite neatly, however, Severus was now presented with the ever-more frustrating issue of _ daydreams. _ Damn and blast these bloody hormones!

He was now attempting to reverse-engineer his Dreamless Sleep, and modify it so there would be no dreaming at all, day or night.

However, his thoughts kept distracting him, wondering what she might think of this adjustment, what _ she _ would say about that step, and he was going around in circles.

Circles… and spirals and curls, soft ones, like...

“Fuck!”

“Mister Snape! Watch your mouth in my classroom, unless you’d rather have a duckbill for lips! If my lesson is boring you enough to make you use such foul language, you will come up and demonstrate for us.” Minerva snapped at him for his outburst. He’d quite forgotten he was in Transfiguration class. 

Sheepishly, (Minerva had never failed to put him in his place, even as colleagues) he started to get up to walk to the front of the classroom.

Freezing for a split second, pure boyish fear ran through his head, as he realized his wayward thoughts had led to an unsolicited hard-on.

This teenage body can burn in Tartarus for all the good it’s done me! Bugger it all, he thought, as he adjusted his robes and shot a silent Notice-Me-Not towards the general area of his crotch, -not an action he’d _ever _imagined taking- cleared his throat and made his way, walking a bit stiffly, to the front of the class.

A quick, if unethical, scan of his classmates’ surface thoughts provided him with a clue to what he was supposed to be attempting. It wouldn’t do to have Minerva believe he wasn’t paying attention.

He shuddered in revulsion after catching a glimpse of one boy’s thoughts, (a woman’s breasts do _not _ defy gravity in such a manner, you absolute ass) and prepared to begin.

They were working on Switching spells, reviewing their OWL level skills from last year, but no matter. All the better for him, for Transfiguration had never been his strong suit. He was to switch the feathers of an Owl, who was gracious enough to tolerate this treatment, with the fur of the Kneazle sitting beside it. Easy. A clear visual, no imagination required, Minerva, come now, you getting too soft.

Soft, huh…

Before he knew it the Owl had sprouted a mane of wild curls, the same colour and texture as Hermione's hair, effectively turning the poor bird into a pom-pom.

He had managed to get the feathers on the Kneazle just fine, and it purred contentedly as it groomed them, but the damage was done. Laughter skittered around the room, and he wasn’t sure whether to glare at them, or play it off.

In his moment of indecision, he caught Lily’s eye. He was sure he’d regret that later, as he could see growing questions in her expression.

“Mister Snape, return to your seat. You can’t afford to be getting distracted in this class.” Despite having come away from that relatively unscathed, he couldn’t afford to relax now. That girl was taking up enough space in his thoughts that even his magical performance was suffering?

How mad was he?

“Sev, Sev! Wait up!” Lily called to him after class, running to catch up with his long strides.

“What is it, Lily? I have some ingredients drying in the sun, they need to be flipped before golden-hour for optimal quality.” Evasive maneuvers like this had never worked on Lily, and he had never determined if it was simply because she was oblivious, or because she saw right through him.

“It’ll be quick, don’t worry!”

Sighing dramatically, he acquiesced, slowing his pace. Smirking up at him, she looked like the cat that got the cream.

“You _ like _ someone, don't cha, Sev?” A sputtering protest escaped him, but before he could even form a coherent word, she started again. “You’re head over heels! Arse over teakettle! Far gone! Holy cow, I gotta tell your mom about your crush! Who is it? Tell me! I know you’re pants at Transfiguration, but even you wouldn’t mess that one up without a reason. Don’t even try to deny it!” 

Her interrogation had gotten surprisingly aggressive as she ranted at him, and he couldn’t tell who he should be more concerned for; himself, or Hermione.

“Lily, you’re just plain wrong. I’ve never had a _ crush_, all the years you’ve known me, right? I have a Mastery to finish first, before I can bother with any sentimental pish-posh!” He blustered at her, in what he hoped was a convincing manner.

“You and your books, Sev. Mastery this, potions that! When are you gonna pull your head out of your arse and find some happiness for once! You’ve got half the girls and a good tenth of the guys drooling all over you this year, put them out of their misery and find a girl!” Lily pouted, seemingly convinced by his words for the moment.

“I told you, when I finish my Master- wait, what? Half of who now? A tenth of what?” He felt his eyebrows raise in alarm.

“Boys. Honestly. I have to spell it out for you, do I? You grew into your features, you’re healthy now, what else can I say? They think you’re a hot piece of ass!” She gestured wildly in his direction.

“Please. You’re joking. Lily, I really must be going. Can we talk later?” He begged her, overwhelmed by the sudden turn in the conversation. Smirking at him, she wagged her finger.

“Alright, you wimp. But don’t think I’m just gonna drop this, kay?”

“Fine, fine, do what you want. It’s not like I’ve ever been able to stop you.” He waved her off, already defeated. It really was like having a precocious little sister, he thought, smiling inwardly.

Hot piece of ass? The fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Severus keeps getting more and more confused... HAH!
> 
> ;)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of peeps reminded me I haven't told you guys my fan-cast for young/healthy!Severus, and hoo boy, you guys aren't ready: 
> 
> Efren Garza, as photographed by You Bin: http://www.florian-wowretzko-blog.com/2016/04/ezekiel-feature-in-deux-hommes.html
> 
> That Roman nose, though! Oof!

**SS**

Being called into Dumbledore’s office was the last thing that Severus expected from his weekend. The owl delivering the note almost seemed apologetic, as if it knew how jarring its package would be.

Anxiety growing exponentially, he was glad that he needn’t wear the school uniform, so he could fully wrap himself in his comforting robes, the weight and softness of them helping to calm his heart rate. 

Had he been exposed? He couldn’t think of how, he’d been so careful. 

The idea of being drawn back into the old man’s manipulative clutches was too much to bear. He couldn’t avoid a direct summons, however, lest he appears suspicious, and so he went.

“Severus, my boy! Come in, come in.” Despite the warm welcome, Albus had never addressed him by his first name as a student, further confirming to Severus that this was no ordinary meeting. It was difficult not to freeze in the doorway as his blood turned to ice, heart dropping so quickly it made him breathless.

Stiff-backed, Severus sat, and braced himself.

“Relax child, you’re not in trouble. Professor McGonagall tells me there are some rather disturbing rumors spreading through the student body, and she recommended that I speak to you personally.” Severus made a show of relaxing into his seat to appease the older man, though he was still unable to unclench his jaw. 

Were these the rumors about Hermione’s ‘possession’? He’d thought they were fizzling out, had even turned the idea of reaching out to her over a few times in his head because of it. 

Were they getting worse? Why would Minerva ask for him, not Hermione? And why was Dumbledore needed? His thoughts raced, the tension running through him making them impossible to slow down.

“Let me tell you a story, Mister Snape. A very long time ago, there was a young man.”

Severus was officially, completely and utterly confused, but Albus was on a roll. “He had a good number of friends, witches and wizards and muggles alike. He loved them all, however, there was one who stood above the rest. 

“So great was the young man’s love for his friend, there came a time as he grew, that he learned that this love was not simply based in friendship. It was a romantic love, the greatest one he would ever know.” The Headmaster gazed off into the middle distance, clearly reminiscing. What was going on?

“This would be cause for celebration, yes?” Severus nodded silently, trying to follow.

“Yes. It should have been. Love, after all, is the most powerful magic, in all its forms. Can you imagine why the young man could not celebrate?”

Shaking his head no, Severus’ patience grew thin with the roundabout explanation, but he daren’t interrupt.

“It was because his friend was a wizard. Now, we magical folk are privileged enough that homosexuality is completely legal, and has been for centuries. However, much like in muggle society, it has long been shunned as ‘unclean,’ or ‘unnatural’, particularly in Pureblood society, where the ‘begetting of heirs’ is of utmost importance.

“The young wizard lived in fear of his secret’s discovery for a long time, until he learned that his love was reciprocated. So, this story has somewhat of a happy ending. You see, that young man was me.”

Severus managed to raise his eyebrows, faking surprise, but the moment Albus had mentioned homosexuality, he had known who the story was about. What he was still stuck on was what the hell this farce had to do with him!

“Now, my boy, my point is that one’s sexuality is… a delicate subject. Not something to be outed by anyone but oneself. So, I am willing to Obliviate the knowledge of yours from all those spreading the gossip.”

“My sexuality, sir?”

“Have you not heard? Much of the student body is aware that you are gay, child, and they even know of your paramour, the muggle boy? The faculty is not yet sure the source of the information leak, but we may be able to narrow it down if you let me know who it is you have personally confided in.”

“Me? Gay? What? A muggle boyfriend?”

Severus was reeling, and had it been anyone else, he would have laughed until tears came to his eyes. Was that what this was all about? The Marauders had been pushing that idea for years! “You can let them have their gossip, sir, I really am not. Nor do I have a muggle boyfriend.”

Albus was more flustered than Severus had ever seen him. Not to say he showed it outright, but he had begun polishing his half-moon spectacles, and had traded his twinkle for pinkened cheeks. Severus knew for a fact that those glasses had a permanent polish charm, that Filius had placed on them after losing a bet, years and years ago.

Somehow, knocking Albus off-balance for the first time did a lot for his comfort level, and his jaw loosened.

“I’m terribly sorry my boy. Even the faculty had assumed… your hair… I suppose it goes to show, you never know. I hope you can forgive us.” The twinkle was back, full force, “Please, let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you to make up for our blunder.” The sneaky bastard knew a Slytherin would never pass up on an IOU, and this time, it seemed as if it was free of strings.

Quirking his lips into a half-smile, Severus rose to leave.

“I’ll hold you to it. Sir.”

\--

**HG**

Hermione’s heart was growing heavier with every moment she eavesdropped. Sitting in the girls’ toilets, she couldn’t help but hear the disturbing conversation happening outside her stall.

“I’ve already told you Marlene, Sev has a boyfriend! No, I don’t know his name, and even if I did, why would I tell you? You’re crazy enough to track him down! Poor muggle won’t know what hit him. Look, I’m just trying to help him get all the chicks off his back, you know? Just drop it!” Lily’s voice rang clearly through the room, and Hermione clenched her teeth.

Guess the mean streak didn’t stop with Petunia. 

Hours later, having penned a quick note to Severus, signed ‘I.K.’ for ‘insufferable know-it-all,’ asking for him to meet ‘by the brown chairs’ to discuss it tomorrow, (rather well-done code, for an amateur, she thought. Brown chairs could be anywhere!) she still couldn’t shake her doubts. Gossiping behind his back just didn’t seem like her. 

Something had to be very wrong, for her to act out behind Severus’ back like that. From what she’d heard of her, Lily had always been on his side. How in the world would she confront the younger girl about this, and still fly below the radar? Hmm...

The next morning, Hermione put on a similar ‘shy Ravenclaw’ face to the one she’d used with Remus, and approached Lily as she was leaving the Great Hall.

“Excuse me, Lily? Can I ask you something? It’s kinda embarrassing, but you know Severus, right? We met over the summer, as you know, but I haven’t been able to talk to him much since.” She poured innocence and girlish hope into every syllable.

“OH my gosh, WHEN will people stop asking? No, I can’t help you ask him out. You have to know he’s gay by now, it’s all over the school!” Lily’s tone was fully exasperated.

“I’m sorry I…” She trailed off, and burst into crocodile tears. “Sorry, it’s just I’m so happy for him! One of my few memories from before the accident is from when my aunt came out. It’s crazy brave to do something so scary, I’m so glad you’re supportive of him!”

Lily’s once annoyed expression turned to confusion as Hermione poured it on.

“She said it was the most terrifying experience of her life. I couldn’t imagine how painful it would have been if someone had outed her before she was ready. He’s amazing, getting your help with really spreading the word to everyone. That’s even harder than telling the people who love you!” Lily’s face went white. 

“I bet it’s been hard for you, now that he has a boyfriend. Being best friends is kinda like dating, but when your bestie gets a partner… look out! Lots of _ competition _.”

The redhead snagged her arm, pulling her around a corner and out of sight, and the tears in her eyes let Hermione know that she’d hit the nail on the head.

Maintaining her innocent expression, she pretended complete obliviousness as Lily looked to her in a panic.

“I just wanted to keep him for myself! He’s my Sev.” Tears streaming down her face, she confessed. “I made it all up. It’s just been so weird this year. All those girls circling like sharks. They don’t even know him! And I think he’s been avoiding me. I thought if I spread that he’s gay, it would stop, and none of the girls would ask him out.

"Maybe I thought he could ‘break up’ with his imaginary boyfriend a couple months down the line, and I could be his girlfriend. He could be bi, right? Then nobody would steal him. I don’t know, I don’t know…”

She was sobbing now, head in her hands. Harry seemed to get the ‘charge ahead without thinking’ gene from both of his parents. Lily had truly never thought about the consequences. Oblivious!

“What if he is gay? You said yourself that being outed early is awful, he’s gonna hate me! Maybe I should just tell him I love him right now, and he’ll forgive me if I’m his girlfriend.”

“Whoa, hold your horses! You gotta ask yourself a few questions before taking a leap like that. If you’re doing it for the wrong reasons, you’ll just end up hurting the both of you!” Jeez, this manipulation thing could sure get out of hand fast, Hermione thought.

“Can you honestly say that you can be in a committed relationship with him?

"Could you snog him, plan for the future, do you guys share interests? Romantic relationships either lead to forever, or nothing. Do you want kids? Do you want his kids, and everything that means? What if he never wants kids? I had a couple close friends, and I thought I was interested in one of them. But now I realize, he was more like a brother.”

“Oh god.” Lily sniffed, realization, self-hatred, and horror growing on her face. “I could never be his girlfriend. What was I thinking? I’m such an awful person.”

“No, you just value his friendship enough to panic when it feels threatened. I’m sure he’ll forgive you, if you explain, right? You know him best, in the end. Maybe he didn’t know you were missing him.”

“He is a blind idiot.” She laughed weakly. “But he’s my blind idiot, and I’m gonna try to be a better friend. Thanks, Harmony.”

“It’s Her-” Oh, nevermind. Better this way. “You can do it!”

“You know, you’re alright. Anyone who cries happy tears at a fake coming out story for him is okay in my book. Not that it counts for anything, really, but you have my blessing, as his best friend, if you still wanna try your luck and ask him out. He’s a tough nut to crack though, all study and no ‘pish-posh.’

“Good luck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily, you've grown so quickly!
> 
> Also, WOW, dat's one queer chapter! Where my fellow bi bois at?


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good!

**HG**

On her way to the unused classroom, she wondered if she should even tell Severus about Lily, after their conversation. Perhaps it was better to stay out of it, let Lily fix her blunder alone. But then again, he was always one to jump to conclusions. 

She never got the chance to decide, for from behind her she heard a boy call,

“Oi, new girl!” Turning, she saw it was Sirius Black.

Remus had always been redeemable, and the ferocity with which Sirius and James had protected Harry in her past timeline convinced her that they deserved at least a chance to grow out of their past behaviour to Severus, so she tried to stay openminded, and not grit her teeth.

“Hello. Sirius, right?”

“That’s me. Wanted to come apologize to the fair maiden I have wronged.” He bowed his head over the hand she had extended to shake, surely a goofy version of his Pureblood manners. “Our moon-challenged friend informed me of your predicament. Family curses can be a bitch, eh?” Straightening, he grinned.

Thank goodness her story had worked. Not that she couldn’t handle being on their bad side, she simply knew it would be a tedious annoyance. “James and Peter would be here too, but they got themselves detention. We are all at your service.”

Hermione was sure he believed he was being perfectly gallant, but she could hardly keep from laughing. It was like a boy trying on his father’s suit, the shoes were too big to fill. He hadn't even asked for her name! 'New girl' indeed.

“Thank you, and you’re forgiven for the rumors. It’s natural to fear things you don’t understand.”

“Is Snape still sniffing around? Bet he wants your curse for himself, the slimy git. You tell any one of us, we’ll get him out of your hair.” His lip curled, unflatteringly. 

“Severus has been nothing but a gentleman, every time we have interacted. He can ‘sniff around’ all he damn well likes, thank you. He saved my life! Your assuming such things about him means I can only see one slimy git around here, and it’s not him.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at him, giving him a once over. 

“I suggest you get to know him as a fellow human being before you go spreading those ideas and hatred about. You managed with me, right? I’ll see you around.” She tried to end it on a gentle note, smiling encouragingly at the boy (whose jaw had been hanging open since she mentioned Severus’ heroics) before bouncing off down the hallway, a tad proud of herself.

\--

**SS**

Sirius hadn’t been the only one surprised by her words. Severus stood, pressed into an alcove, heart racing. His stomach had dropped as he saw Sirius approach Hermione, sure there was a chance that she would be won over. The dog was a connection to her lost friends, after all. 

He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but hearing her defend him, so matter-of-factly, putting the boy in his place masterfully enough that Black couldn’t even be offended enough to fight back, had him weak in the knees. She had obviously picked up on Minerva’s ability to make one feel two inches tall with a mere look. 

Shooting a weak Confundus around the corner to catch Black in the ankle, Severus ensured that he wouldn’t be following her, on the way to their classroom. 

Despite the deep breaths he was taking, he couldn’t seem to calm his heart as he approached the classroom door. After nearly a month of radio silence, from both ends, it was somehow intensely nerve-wracking, this meeting. If Lily had been able to perceive his infatuation, how obvious would it be to Hermione?

Slipping through the doorway, his hand jerked up in an awkward greeting, like a nervous tick, which he salvaged by running his hand semi-nonchalantly through his hair. Severus Snape does _ not _ ‘wave.’

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Severus! Come in, sit, sit. Before I get into anything, let me tell you how I fixed the rumors.” She was fairly glowing with pride, and he was glad to let her do the talking.

As she regaled him with the tale of how she twisted the Gryffindor boys around her little finger, he steadily relaxed. The ‘family curse’ and supernatural influence she had come up with had clearly been to endear herself to Black and Lupin, knowing their personal situations.

It was all terribly Slytherin, which simply increased his attraction to her.

Damn it all to hell, now he was nervous again.

\--

**HG**

Hermione was glad that she and Severus seemed to be feeling similarly off-balance, it made her slightly more comfortable. 

“So. This is probably a difficult question, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it, but it ties into what I wanted to tell you.” She knew she was chewing her lip raw, but she couldn’t help it.

“You said there was something you’d done in the previous timeline, something that was 'unforgivable', right? Could I hear the story? No need to tell me, just bringing it up is enough. You just know what it feels like to not receive forgiveness from a friend, and that leads into why I called this meeting.”

She cringed internally as she watched him stiffen, sadness weighing down his shoulders.

“I suppose it wouldn’t do for me to be the only individual in this timeline who is aware of my past transgressions.” His tone was resigned, and he was unable to meet her eyes. 

She was suddenly afraid that he would run from her after this, and silently sent an extra ward to the door, to buy herself some time to catch him if he fled. Whatever it was, it had already been undone. Not only that, he had likely tortured himself over it for years. In her books, that was enough, he was already forgiven. And she'd force that fact down his esophagus if need be.

She could feel alternating waves of feverish heat and cold coming from his distressed magic. This must be the self-destructive cycle Professor Sprout mentioned.

“You remember how I said that the day we arrived in this timeline was originally the worst day of my life, the turning point that led me to darkness? ...Originally, the Marauders had interrupted my studying for a duel, which ended, unfortunately, with my second-hand pants being exposed, as I couldn’t afford new trousers that year for under my robes.

"I was wandless, hanging upside-down, with a growing audience, and… Lily stepped in to defend me, as she always had.” As the story flowed from him, he appeared to be shrinking into himself in shame.

“I was weak and prideful enough to completely lose my head. The slur, that I am sure you’ve heard many times coming from my ignoramus of a godson, referring to Muggleborns, was in frequent use in Slytherin. I had even begun using it in the dorms, in order to fit in, survive as a half-blood. I threw it in her face, my best friend, who had only wished to help.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing shakily. His usually smooth voice was growing hoarse with emotion, though she couldn’t tell if he was crying, as his hair had fallen forward to obscure his face.

“I begged for forgiveness, slept in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, but she was done with me. I lost myself for years afterwards, and eventually, revealed information to Voldemort that would lead to her death. Unknowingly, blindly, but nevertheless.”

When Hermione was sure he wasn’t about to run, she reached for his hand, releasing the ward. He jumped, as if he’d expected her to leave the room, never speak to him again, much less initiate physical contact.

“I’m assuming the slur had to do with ‘mud,’ yes?” He flinched, even at the partial use of the word. ‘Mudblood’ had quickly lost all meaning to her, she simply couldn’t care less about it. But it had really left deep scars on Severus.

“Coming from a Muggleborn, Severus, I believe she may have overreacted.” His head shot up, and she knew the glare of hatred she saw there was not directed at her, but simply towards himself. She knew that even her easy acceptance of his mistake wouldn’t be enough to heal his self-hatred.

“Let’s put this story away for now, shall we? This time, it never happened. I’m sorry to make you relive that pain. I just wanted you to be open to forgiveness, when I tell you what Lily has done. And… what I’ve done.” 

“Lily? What has Lily done?” He straightened in confusion. “And you? What is it?”

“You know the rumors that were circulating, about your sexuality? I overheard Lily spreading them. I was just going to tell you and not get involved, but I couldn’t help myself! I confronted her, I’m sorry.” She knew he was an incredibly private man, and her meddling was so Dumbledore-esque, she was sure he’d hate her for it. 

She drew back from him, wrapping her arms around her middle tightly, trying to hold herself together. “I promise she wasn’t doing it for the wrong reasons, it was just teenage bad judgement, but I think I should back off, and let her explain for herself.”

“Hah!” His laugh was breathy and relieved. “So that’s all it was. I can’t expect you, the know-it-all Gryffindor Golden Girl, to ‘stay out of it’! You’re forgiven, and so is she. I believe you, when you say she was simply misguided. Thank you for giving her an opportunity to grow, I’ll be sure to hear her out.”

Hermione burst into tears.

\--

**SS**

Stunned, Severus froze at the sight of the woman crying in front of him. What had he done?!?

“Hermione?” His hands hovered in her direction, unsure.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-” She pressed the heels of her palms to her closed eyes, as if to dam up the tears, speaking haltingly between sobs. “I’m just… so gla-ad!”

Ah, so she was relieved. Was this how all women reacted to good news? Suddenly, his arms were full of warm witch, her head buried in his shoulder.

Her emotions were running so high, it was nearly impossible to block them out during physical contact, due to his affinity. Relief, not just for Lily, but herself too. ‘Not alone, not alone.’ She _ missed _ me. Me!

“I missed you too.” He whispered inaudibly into her hair, in awe at her strength, and vulnerability. She had even forgiven his greatest sin, without hesitation, and protected his friend from herself. 

Infatuation or not, he knew that he would protect her for the rest of his life; never leave her side, if she let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh Hermione, watch that ward! That looked a bit possessive to me... ;)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus puts some conflict to rest, while for Hermione... her problems are only just beginning!  
;)

**HG**

Hermione wanted to believe that her throwing herself into Severus’ arms had been simply emotional, but the need she felt after being cradled against his broad chest still lingered hours later, she felt she'd breathed easier surrounded by his scent. 

Yes, all that had happened since their initial meeting in this time had set a precedent of physical contact, her holding him, his saving her, etcetera, but was this crossing the line? And if it was, why had she done it? 

She was pacing the halls, trying to calm the restless feeling building inside her, when she nearly ran into Professor McGonagall.

“Miss Granger, it is much too close to curfew to be wandering the halls this far from your dormitory.” Something in Hermione’s expression must have given her desperation away, and her Professor’s usually stern expression softened. “Would you care to join me in my office for some tea?”

“Yes, I'd like that.” While Professor Sprout was a grandmotherly figure to her, it was the strict-and-fiery Minerva McGonagall that reminded her the most of her mother, and a fraction of the tension she held disappeared.

After settling in, her teacher’s face twisted with guilt, an unfamiliar expression on her, as cats, her Animagus form, rarely experienced that emotion.

“I fear I must tell you, Pomona has informed me of your predicament. She felt with my… expertise, shall we say… I may be able to help you.”

Predicament? Oh gods, she had almost forgotten about the whole ‘heat’ business. She flushed deeply, suddenly all too aware of what exactly she was feeling.

“Now, it is frankly quite impressive that you possess this dual affinity, quite rare. I cannot relate in the elemental affinity sense like Professor Sprout, mine is fire.

"However. You are aware, yes, that my animagus form is a cat?”

Hermione nodded, mute.

“Well, I do not experience it as frequently as a cat may, however, much like you, my ‘fertile’ peak coincides with my menstrual cycle. Heat, if you like.”

She felt her eyes widen at the thought of her prim teacher being affected as she was. Somehow, it had made more sense coming from Professor Sprout. 

“I am fortunate enough to have a... partner with whom I may calm the effects, however I lived for many years handling it alone, and I can suggest some strategies, if you wish?”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful.” If Professor McGonagall could do it, so could she! 

She hoped.

“Straight to business then. Am I correct in assuming that you are an early bloomer? Matured early, not just mentally, but physically?” Hermione gestured the affirmative.

“Then you are already experiencing the symptoms.” This time it wasn’t a question. “You will find some relief through masturbation, though we both know that it is simply impractical to be spending too much time with that.” Hermione sat back in her chair, hard. Much like her mother, her teacher certainly didn’t dance around the terminology.

“What can I do, then?”

“The easiest way would be to find a lover. Male or female, your symptoms will be appeased quickly. However, you know I must encourage you to refrain from doing so, as your studies take priority, and such relationships can be distracting.”

Pink spread across her teacher’s high cheekbones, reminding Hermione that the head of Gryffindor was a young witch in her prime, considering their potential lifespan.

“Exercising is a practical solution. Not just your body, but also your magic. I know that you had a particularly disturbing experience with your dual affinity, however you cannot shy away from it. It will only grow more uncontrollable, the more you avoid it.”

Hermione gulped. Exercise had never been her strong suit. 

\--

**SS**

Severus was beginning to wonder if during the changes he’d attempted to make, something had gone very wrong. This was the second time in as many days that he had a woman crying into his chest. Was this what emotional growth brought? 

What cue had he given, to allow this? Not that he particularly minded, it had simply never happened before. 

Were women just emotionally advanced enough to detect his change in emotional capacity, was that why they now chose to seek comfort from him?

He attempted to put his thoughts aside, and focus on what Lily was saying, in between sobs.

“Please don’t hate me! I just… Missed you.” She’d given herself the hiccups. Having already gotten the gist of the situation from Hermione, it was nice not to be surprised. He really had been neglecting her.

Lily had come to explain herself, in the tiniest voice, eyes down. When she was done, he had asked her to look up, and once meeting her eyes, before he knew it, she was in his arms.

The last time they’d hugged… first year.

“Believe me, Lily, I would have likely done something much worse if I was in your position, believing that my best friend may be stolen away, feeling more and more distant from them.” 

He had a strange urge to both flinch and laugh at the parallel her actions made with his from the previous timeline. Lashing out before they realized they’d meant to hold on tight to their friendship.

“You are already forgiven, and I’m glad that you made this mistake with me. Had it been someone truly homosexual or questioning, ready to come out or not, you would have destroyed something precious.” She shook her head emphatically in agreement against him. 

He continued, voice a bit shakier, “Now, the question is, can we forgive each other for… growing apart... and get to know each other again?” It was the first time he had ever really extended an olive branch, and his jaw tightened, waiting anxiously for her response.

“I can if you can, Sev.” Her green eyes still swimming with tears, Severus watched her smile through them, and saw his little sister grow up before his eyes.

Severus whistled as they parted ways, plans for weekly get-togethers over tea sparkling happily in his future.

\--

**HG**

Though Hermione now knew what it would take to make it through her week of heightened ‘need,’ she wasn’t sure how to go about it, and couldn’t focus long enough to find a solution, an exercise that fit her capabilities. 

She found herself internally squirming as she followed the male students around her with her eyes, ogling unabashedly before catching herself. And the cycle would start again. This damn situation was even stealing her train of thought from her!

So she began pacing around the school, taking stairs two at a time, restless, barely able to sleep. It wasn’t enough. 

Waking before the sun two days after her chat with McGonagall, she shivered, remebering the wildly erotic dream she’d had, so intense that she’d twisted and tortured her sheets, and could still feel the throbbing between her legs. 

It had started with the memory of Severus gazing up at her in awe, that night at the lake. His well-trained muscles were braced against the cold, chest heaving from his sprint to save her from herself. 

But instead of going black, as her memory had, she had drawn him to her in the dream, his awe had turned to lustful worship, and his hands...

She cut her thoughts off, knowing she’d never leave her bed if she relived the entire dream again. She had to do something, keep moving, keep her mind off of it. ‘It’ll be over soon.’

So she took to her pacing again, though the rest of the school was still asleep. 

Or so she thought. She had merely glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye, but something instinctual had taken over, completely derailing all else, and she had to follow him. Severus Snape, _why_ did you have to show up, and right after that delicious dream?

When he arrived at the lake, it hit her. She loved swimming! She could do that! 

Forgetting she was supposed to be following in secret, she called out to him, and he froze, in the middle of disrobing for his swim.

“Hello, Hermione. What brings you out here so early?” His expression was surprised, but he made no attempt to cover himself, an action that the primal part of her greatly appreciated. She wanted to trace those scars with her tongue.

Breathless, she attempted to explain herself, scrambling to find an excuse. 

“I’m… a bit too scared to swim on my own in this particular lake, but I thought, if I want to prepare for the war, or just against Tom Riddle in general… I should, exercise? Maybe even train in dueling?” 

She added the last bit as an afterthought, realizing belatedly that even though she was half-lying to make herself seem less like a stalker, both of those things would be beneficial, bottom line.

“I agree... That’s why I do it, and you’re welcome to tag along for my training." Severus had gone a bit pink in the cheeks, which Hermione attributed to the cold.

Suddenly, a thought struck. While she had succeeded solving one problem, her need for exercise, to drive the restlessness away, she may have just put herself in an even more tempting situation. Oh gods. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus, you sexy, sexy man. Like honey to Hermione's bee...
> 
> P.S. -Did you catch how Minerva was the one to be thrown under the awkward 'talk' bus this time? Karma comes to even those who throw Dumbledore under the bus, hehe


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate winter, guys. (Probably why I've had so much writer's block) So here's a chapter about how much I'd appreciate having magic like these lucky ducks, so I could swim whenever I wanted, without having to pile on a wetsuit, lol (not what it's really about, but that's what I was thinking the whole time)

**SS**

Hermione seemed… different somehow. There was an edge of desperate hunger to her voice when she greeted him before his morning swim, which was mirrored in her face when he turned to see her. 

Her cheeks were flushed, and her crazy hair even further disheveled. Before Severus could shake the thought, his mind provided the description; ‘freshly fucked,’ and he proceeded to chastise himself voraciously. He should have catalogued, analyzed the strange edge that he’d perceived from her before it was gone.

He’d agreed readily to the idea of training together, -it was more than needed, on her part, she’d never stand against the Dark Lord without a solid physical foundation- though as he did, he remembered that he was shirtless, heat rising in his own face. Like a puppy jumping to greet it’s master, seeing Hermione had driven all rational thought from his mind. 

Naturally, the thoughts that followed included many varying images of ‘Hermione-in-swimsuit’ possibilities, which completely distracted him, for who knows how long.

Coming back to himself, he heard, “I’m ready!” from Hermione, where she had set up a quick privacy shield with transfiguration while she conjured up her swimsuit. Bracing himself, he repeated a mantra of ‘don’t stare, don’t pop a boner, don’t freeze’ over and over in his head, before turning around.

He was met with the strangest sight he had ever witnessed, his eyebrows shooting upwards automatically. 

Was this even Hermione? Her hair was smashed into and covered in what looked like… rubber? And her eyes were confined behind mirrored, alien goggles. Paired with her excited grin, it was almost enough to distract from her form-fitting, practical one-piece.

The shock and absurdity of it all brought laughter bubbling up until he was bent double.

“Wh- What are you wearing?!” He managed to speak after wiping the tears that had gathered due to the force of his laughter, but facing her again, now indignant with her hands on her hips, set him off once more.

“I’ll have you know -stop laughing you git- I was a competitive swimmer before ending up in this time! We all wear goggles and swim caps! It’s the only way to keep my hair under control.” She was pouting by the end of her tirade, another hilarious expression when you couldn’t see her eyes, and he sobered enough to gently peel off her goggles and explain.

“There’s charms for all this, don’t worry.”

“Ah.” She didn’t appear to know where to look, and he realized he had gotten very, very close to her. Clearing his throat, he stepped back hastily.

“Yes. Well. The first would be the  _ Scilicet Mare _ charm, so you may do away with these… goggles. Your eyes may water for a moment, but you shouldn’t experience any discomfort. Then, I’ll have to apply it, as there’s a bit of a trick to it, but a  _ Contexere Tenetis  _ charm will hold your hair out of the way.”

“Where did you learn all this? I’ve never read of any charms like them!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement and gratitude for the new knowledge, and he had to look away, for he knew he didn’t deserve her passion, with where his thoughts had been a moment ago.

“I translated them to a more pronounce-able format, from some Arabic pearl diving records. I was looking into how they harvested magical oysters for their pearls to see if I could recreate… well, it didn’t work, so it doesn’t matter. Coming away with some useful spells, I was happy enough.”

Quickly demonstrating the first charm, or ‘Clearly Sea’ as he called it, she followed easily.

Blinking the tears from her eyes, she grinned up at him, remarking that it 'must be focused on the refraction of light as it enters the water, since everything looked a bit wonky above the surface now'. His stomach flipped at witnessing the speed of her mind.

He steeled himself, for the latter charm was wandless, requiring him to run his fingers through her hair as it wove itself into position.

Hesitating for an agonizingly silent moment, he positioned himself behind her to place his fingers at her hairline and murmur the charm. Should he make conversation? He wanted to tell her how things had gone with Lily, thank her for her help, but would she want to know? The texture of her hair quickly stole his ability to speak, however, leaving his mouth dry, and his news unsaid.

He couldn’t tell if it was his own shaking, or a shiver from her that caused the vibrations he felt, but the quiet hum she released was unmistakable. So too was the way that she leaned into his palm before he could pull away.

What in the world?

A small cough and pinkened cheeks seemed to be the only acknowledgement that she wanted to give to that strange moment, trying to shrug it off. Something predatory in his core wanted to push, find the reason for her reaction to him, but he squashed it. 

She then turned to him, her fingers wiggling playfully. Her hair seemed to be holding nicely, appearing similar to a dutch braid. His eyes widened at her next words,

“Your turn! I’ve got to practice, right?” A surprisingly wicked grin grew across her face, as if she could sense how sensitive his scalp was, especially against dainty fingers such as her own.

There would be no deterring her, so he took a knee, and tried his very best to Occlude.

\--

**HG**

There was no way she was letting him get away scot-free for that! Nearly making her moan aloud with those cursedly dexterous fingers, she really was far gone. 

Maybe it was just because nobody ever played with her hair. The charm seemed to sort out the tangles on its own, unsurprising from Arabic magic; much like her Romani ancestors, they knew how to handle curls. 

Either way, he was gonna get it.

She spoke the charm as he had, and realized her mistake. Why oh why had she insisted on doing his? His hair was an addictive texture, as soft and smooth as downy feathers, absolutely nothing like her own. The muscles in his neck and shoulders were tense, twitching slightly when her nails brushed his scalp. She could see him swallow forcefully and wondered if she’d made him uncomfortable. Watching the dark strands weave themselves together was mesmerizing, and she jumped; she had kept her hands against his scalp for a few too many breath-holding moments.

Rushing to cover what was now two embarrassingly revealing moments, she hurried over to the water, applying heating charms as she went.

“Come on, slowpoke, we’re losing daylight!” She called back to him, trying not to fixate on how good his hair looked in a braid, and how she had absolutely not gotten any payback.

Reaching the edge of the lake, a wave lapped at her toe and she froze, remembering. Shit. She’d really almost died.

Was it just… okay? Could she move on so quickly? Hermione had never been afraid of the water, never once. It had always been a source of calm, a place she could turn off her brain for a while. That appeared to have stayed the same. The dream-like memories she had over her time ‘asleep’ confirmed that the magic wasn’t malicious, and had been trying to help, in some way.

She didn’t blame the water for her scary experience, she decided. It was her own fault, and in the end, she was simply wary of the sheer power of the magic. Unsure if she could wield it. But swimming didn’t require elemental magic, so she would just roll with it.

She dove, opening her eyes tentatively under the water, an uncontrollable grin stretching her cheeks when she looked about, confirming that her vision was perfect, and unirritated by the lakewater. Now  _ this _ was swimming! Almost completely unfettered. She let herself hang in the water column, peering up at the divide.

Hermione had a sudden urge to rip off her swimsuit, the fabric being the only thing between her and freedom in this space. Luckily, or perhaps not, she was distracted by Severus’ clean dive to join her.

He signaled a questioning ‘ok?’ which she returned, still smiling. The water suited him, his olive complexion warming against the blues and grays of the filtered light. Breaking the surface together, she exclaimed,

“This is perfect! You’ve got to write a book someday, with all the ideas you come up with, the world would sorely miss the contribution.” He blinked rapidly, looking away quickly before speaking.

“You’re alright then? Your last... Experience?” She wanted to pout again; he had changed the subject so quickly, just because she’d complimented him. 

“I’m fine, yes.” She would drop it for now, she decided. “I’ve always loved swimming. Now, race you to the other side! Go!” Her competitive spirit compelled her to wait so that they could start at the same time, but she was pretty sure she’d still smoke him, speed-wise. She might not have a single coordinated bone in her body, on land, but in the water, her confidence surged.

After a few hundred meters of warming up, keeping pace with him, she broke into a sprint. Despite how deep it was, the Black Lake was much longer than it was wide, and they were taking the width. She couldn’t have kept up the pace otherwise, but she quickly pulled ahead of him.

Racing a Slytherin, however, she should have known he’d try something. His height allowed him to catch up quickly, and he caught her ankle, tugging her backwards until he was ahead once more.

It was the most playful she’d ever seen him, grinning like a loon while he watched her sputter, so she laughed instead of glaring. However, stopping to watch her reaction was his mistake, and she gathered momentum with a couple powerful butterfly strokes, splashing him, before getting back into stride swimming freestyle, pushing it for the last half-kilometre until her legs, shoulders, and lungs burned.

She’d missed the feeling of really using her muscles, she only really trained at home in the summers. Breathing heavily, she relaxed as she waited for him to catch up.

His relatively higher level of fitness meant that he wasn’t as tired as she, but she was still smug that at least her technique and experience had won the day, this time.

“You must know I’m too competitive to let you win, you cheater! Hah! In your face!” Crowing her victory, she taunted him, to see if she could keep this playful Severus. The mischievous gleam in his eye told her she was successful.

“No, Granger, in yours!” Growling exaggeratedly, he sent a large splash her way, and the war was on. His long arms were generating larger splashes than she could counter, so she ducked under the water to pull him down with her, popping up and waiting until he’d broken the surface, only to grab his shoulders and dunk him again.

She hadn’t expected for his hands to encircle her wrists, but he did, keeping a tight grip as he found his footing to stand, now holding both her wrists in one hand above her head with an evil smirk, forcing her onto her tiptoes. Trapped by his gaze, she hardly breathed, until he scooped her up so quickly she released a surprised ‘meep!’, and tossed her.

She surfaced laughing. “Truce, truce! We have to make it back for class!”

Thankful for the leisurely pace they set on the way back, Hermione had some time to process her morning. The restlessness, the  _ need _ was still there, lingering deep in her belly, however it was no longer all-consuming. She could do this.

Duck-diving under the surface, she swam on her back, watching her bubbles rise towards where Severus swam above her. He had been key to everything, the only reason she had survived this time period. To imagine that she would have managed otherwise would be to lie to herself. And now, he was allowing her to intrude in his private training, even horsing around a bit. Did this mean they were friends? He  _ had _ let her hug him, after the whole Lily debacle, and shared the magic he'd come up with.

Friends. Not just mutual allies in an extenuating situation, not just protecting each other when they had no one else, but friends.

A fond smile on her face, she kicked to join him at the surface, when she heard it calling. The Water. Like before, but much quieter. Squeezing her eyes closed, she wasn’t sure if the motion was an attempt to block it out, or a plea to just put it off a little longer, or both. She would confront it soon, she would. But not where she or Severus could get hurt, if she lost control again.

When she broke the surface, the call was gone, leaving her for now, so she put it out of her mind. 

She’d just solved one issue, no rush to get the other done just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, Hermione. Ye can't be avoidin' this one now! 'Solved' ma bloomin' patootie! The problems are only just beginning!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! It's been awhile, thank you for your patience. I think I'm back on the horse when it comes to inspiration, winter is just an awful time all around. Expect another chapter tomorrow, but for now, here's what Hermione and Severus have been up to their past week!

**HG**

Hermione rode out the rest of the week with relative ease, working her routine around her screamingly horny body:  Wake up, still panting from recurring erotic dreams, swim, class, homework, masturbate until you can’t feel your fingers, sleep, repeat.

Sure, swimming with him and his shirtless self wasn’t helpful for the dreams, providing more ‘material for the spank bank’ as Ron would say, but it took the edge off. 

She and Severus had begun sitting together in the classes they shared, and she loved catching his eye to smirk when students gave particularly ridiculous answers. It seemed they had made the same decision, not to answer in class unless they were called on; it would be unfair otherwise, as they’d both already completed their schooling. 

She was turning over a small idea, wondering if a Protean charm would allow them to write to each other on separate pieces of paper. She enjoyed their discussions too much to keep pausing them in class.

Slightly disturbing to Hermione was the fact that spending time with Severus brought her more joy and engagement on a consistent basis than her time with the boys ever had. It’s not as if she had a preference, however... neither Harry nor Ron would ever even entertain the thought of ‘how magic interacts with the laws of Physics,’ much less hold an hour-long discussion on it. 

Conversations and hypotheticals like those came as easy as breathing with Severus. After everything, she felt a bit proud of herself, that she had made a friend all on her own, despite her flaws, instead of falling into it because of a mutually-terrifying-troll-survival experience.

They swam a little further every day, gradually getting into a good rhythm. He’d asked her to teach him proper technique for butterfly, and though it took some getting used to, teaching her former teacher, she was impressed with the results, for more than one reason. 

Oof, his back muscles were  _ made _ for that swimming style.

Seeing him with a tan, after a stretch of sunny days, further proved her theory that his pale skin was unnatural for him. When she asked, he explained; being of Greco-Roman (or just plain old ‘Italian’) descent, he tanned easily, and he’d layered on sun protection to a nearly unhealthy degree in their previous timeline to maintain his cover as the greasy, pale, bat of the dungeons.

They were going to have their first dueling practice this Saturday. Severus was being rather vague about where they’d be training, but she was excited, nonetheless.

-

**SS**

As Friday’s classes came to a close, Severus felt completely disconnected from reality. There hadn’t been a single moment, from dawn until dusk each day, that he had felt lonely. 

Loneliness was an old friend; it had ridden heavily on every thought, discovery, joke, theory or opinion that crossed his mind, reminding him that he would never be able to share them with anyone; no one would listen, understand, or care. 

But now, as his mind whirred along, it seemed that these everyday thoughts were light and easy, riding a wave that was simply ‘Hermione,’ no longer sharp and empty of promise. 

For the first time since arriving in the past, he’d relaxed into the idea of being Hermione’s ‘peer.’ Though their literal ages would never be close, she was clearly an old soul, and he had to accept that their connection was more normal and balanced-feeling than even the relationships he’d had with his adult co-workers. Together, it felt as if they could shield themselves from the idiocy of their ‘fellow kids,’ and, honestly, most adults.

He was back to humming absently around the castle, a dangerously overflowing feeling of hope bubbling like a cauldron of Felix Felicis in his chest. Hermione was going to enjoy their training; he’d even planned it out in a way he’d thought would be fun for her. 

He could picture her, doubled over in laughter, hair flying, and he knew it was his goal to make it happen as many times as he could.

Before, he’d always had to make his own ‘fun,’ if one could even call it that. Spooking dunderheaded students in the halls, his flair for the dramatic, biting sarcasm, those were all well and good, but tinged with a bitterness that never went away. Now, joking to make Hermione laugh, having her light up during their discussions, planning ahead to introduce her to books he knew she’d love, and quite literally  _ playing _ during their morning swims,  _ that _ was fun.

Severus was enjoying himself so much that it became easier and easier to ignore his libido. Not that it had lessened, per se, but he was more comfortable with letting it just exist. He didn’t need to fixate on how wrong he was for feeling that way, because Hermione was his friend, and he could trust himself to protect her, even from himself and his hormones. 

She  _ was  _ beautiful, powerful, and desirable, it would be an insult to her not to admit that. But now, he could also admit that accepting those truths didn’t make him a monster.

Saturday morning, stretching in his work-out clothes, black Muggle sweatpants and a form-fitting t-shirt, Severus looked about the clearing. He had spent his evenings slipping out of the castle to the Forbidden Forest to set things up. He had already used the convenient opening in the trees for his own routine, however adding another person to the mix meant they would need more space.

So, after an evening of stilted negotiation with the Centaurs -trying to remember all of the correct etiquette was a  _ process _ \- he had convinced them to coax the trees further apart, using their secret magics. To harm a tree, after all, was a terrible offence, and he wasn’t about to start. 

The Centaurs had asked for nothing in return, simply stating, ‘She of the Wild requires it, and it shall be our honour.” Cryptic, but when weren’t they?

Groaning and creaking, the trees had arranged themselves into a circle, ten meters in diameter. It had taken three days, as trees aren’t accustomed to moving. He was sure to cast a Sunlight-mimicking charm in thanks, extra warming for their branches as fall kicked into full gear.

Adding some final touches to the wards, Severus nodded, satisfied, before setting off to fetch Hermione from the castle, where he’d told her to meet him.

Waiting outside the Great Hall, there she was. He paused to watch her rock back and forth, heels to tiptoe, bouncing slightly, and grinned, knowing that it was out of anticipation for their training.

He appreciated her practical attire, and the preemptive braid in her hair to keep it out of her face. She’d never been less than prepared for his classes, something he could never acknowledge, back then, but now it was completely endearing.

Perhaps it would have been more discrete to walk to her side before greeting her, but calling ‘Hermione!’ across the hall, obnoxious or not, was worth it to see her smile bloom as she bounced gaily over to his side, like he was the only person that mattered in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's not about winning, it's about fun"
> 
> "What's that?"
> 
> "Fun is when you  
Fun is it's like, it's kind of, sort of like  
What is fun?  
Let me spell it for you!
> 
> F is for friends who do stuff together  
U is for you and me  
N is for anywhere and anytime at all  
Down here in the deep blue sea"
> 
> "F is for fire that burns down the whole town  
U is for uranium, bombs  
N is for no survivors when you're-"
> 
> "Plankton, those things aren't what fun is all about  
Now, do it like this  
F is for friends who do stuff to-"
> 
> "Never, that's completely idiotic"
> 
> "Here, let me help you  
F is for friends who do stuff together  
U is for you and me, try it  
N is for anywhere and anytime at all  
Down here in the deep blue sea"
> 
> "Wait, I don't understand, I feel all tingly inside  
Should we stop?"
> 
> "No, that's how you're supposed to feel"
> 
> "Well I like it, lets do it again" (okay)
> 
> "F is for frolic through all the flowers  
U is for ukulele  
N is for nose picking, sharing gum, and sand licking, here with my best buddy!"


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a dirty liar everybody, 'tomorrow' turned into 'overmorrow,' sorry for the wait. I couldn't quite get this chapter right, but I hope you like it anyways!

**HG**

Hermione woke, for the first time in what felt like forever, normally. The ache that had taken up residence in her womb had faded, and she hadn’t had a single dream. Thank goodness, because today was the day!

‘Today’s the day’ became her mantra as she bustled about preparing herself, practically skipping to their meeting spot outside the Great Hall.

Heart leaping when she heard Severus call her name, Hermione turned to rush over to him. It seemed like he was just as excited as her, his eyes sparkling in a way she’d rarely seen before. She would get to learn from him again! Not just one measly -if impressive- Dueling Club demonstration, not a surprise fight witnessed by chance with mere boys, the Marauders, but  _ real _ instruction.

He had her close her eyes as he led her outside, and her hand was tingling with the sensation of being held in his. With her eyes closed, every square centimeter of skin was alight and aware of the calluses he had, and how warm and large his hand was. She felt the rush of his magic as he disillusioned her, and the brush of the branches as they entered the Forbidden Forest, though in which direction, she had no idea.

Biding her time as they moved through the forest, Hermione tried to focus on greeting the plants around her, to fight her rising blush. 

Severus was much freer with his friendly affection nowadays. Not that she minded, she would just have to get ahold of herself. 

One of the more discerning pines seemed to catch the secret of her feelings, and she sensed ripples of rumours running through the flora soon after. The way they ‘communicated’ was very abstract, but gossips were gossips, in the end.

She was just about to ask aloud ‘what happened to these tuckered-out trees?’ when Severus lifted their concealment charms, and whispered,

“We’re here.” Fighting the urge to roll her neck back towards the shivers that raced downwards from the ear he’d rasped into, Hermione opened her eyes to the clearing ahead.

Coming through the last of the trees, Hermione’s breath caught.

“Severus… you did this?” The normally dense, dark forest gave way to a bright and open clearing, shaded slightly by the trees surrounding it. Stately pines and twisted oak framed the space, their rich green branches and colour-changing fall leaves filtering the sunlight. It gave the clearing a golden-dappled hue, and late wildflowers had taken advantage of their sudden access to UV rays to carpet the glade in a soft layer of undergrowth. She wouldn’t be surprised if the fae creatures of the woods had aided in establishing them.

“The trees helped.” He replied, not meeting her eyes as he rubbed his neck. “And the Centaurs…” His ears burned a deep red, peeking through his hair.

Their very own Secret Garden. All this work for her? Hermione’s heart felt as if it were trying to escape through her ribs, her magic humming in tune with the pleased Earth Magic that had gathered. It wasn’t his Element, but he had taken pains to work with it carefully and respectfully. The Earth knew. 

And she knew it must have been hard, the Centaurs of the Forbidden Forest were, for lack of a more creative term ‘forbidding,’ even on the best day.

She tackled him.

“Thanks.” She mumbled into his chest, not sorry at all that she’d knocked him up against a tree. “It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever gotten.” And thoughtful, and perfect, and a million other things she didn’t have the words for.

“We’ll see if you still think it’s beautiful after you’ve survived the training, Hermione.” She smiled, hidden, as he awkwardly patted her hair.

-

**SS**

Severus couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction to the glade, and so it was with pride running through his veins that he took her through the exercises of the day. They would practice in workout clothes at first, but soon, he’d ask her to start wearing whatever she’d normally don, to get accustomed to dueling at a moment’s notice.

He laughed at Hermione’s dumbstruck expression when he told her to put her wand away, and explained that she would have to learn how to move first. And so the fun began. He conjured up a pile of snowballs -magic, not snow-based, of course, wouldn’t want the cold to ruin the day- and said simply,

“Dodge.” A fierce look entered her eyes, and she mimicked his pile of snowballs.

“You’re on!” A game of pseudo dodgeball ensued, and when Hermione, as hard as she’d tried, had to breathlessly admit defeat, he said,

“Nice warm-up.”

-

**HG**

As exhausting as the training was, Hermione was a bit relieved. He’d barely let her rest for the full hour they trained, and it kept her mind off of how she even found him attractive covered in sweat and red-faced. After hitting the showers, she flopped onto her bed with a satisfied sigh.

It had been a perfect morning. Sunny, fun, challenging, and interesting, what more could she ask for? She would spend the weekend resting up and studying, and do it all again next week. What could go wrong?

-

Waking up naked on the shores of the Black Lake, covered in strange marks the next morning, was enough to convince her that  _ everything _ could go wrong. 

Trying not to panic, Hermione took stock. She remembered her dreams, they felt the same as those caused by the Water last time, abstract and echoing. Was this her punishment for avoiding her affinity? The marks were so beautiful though, not permanent it seemed, and she had never felt more rested in her life. It was likely not malicious 

Her first thought was to consult Severus about it, see if he’d ever had a sleep-flight episode or something, but she denied it. He had gotten so angry last time she’d lost control over her Water affinity, it had separated them for weeks. They were better friends now, but she couldn’t risk losing him. She would just figure it out on her own.

-

**SS**

Something was wrong with Hermione. She had skipped their morning swim on Sunday, and was spending more and more time in Ravenclaw Tower, ‘researching.’ 

If he pried, would she push him away? Better to just maintain their routine and observe, for now.

-

**HG**

It was getting worse. Dreamless Sleep, trying to stay awake, even tying her ankle to the bedpost, all failed. She scrubbed the marks off each morning, but there were more and more each time, and she couldn’t find any reference to them in Runic texts. 

Not only did she wake up with marks now, but strange seashells from tropical climates were woven into her hair, and pearl necklaces draped her collarbones. It was as if she were being… courted? Or something. How in the world would a tropical snail shell end up in the Black Lake though?

Frazzled, Hermione fell to her old habit of pacing. She needed to know where she was going each night, and the Call of the water was ringing stronger by the hour.

“Hermione!” A feminine voice broke her concentration. “It’s Lily, remember me? I never got to thank you for helping me with Sev.”

“Ah, yes, well, it’s nothing.” Hermione stumbled over her response.

“I’m sorry I got your name wrong before, but there’s no WAY I’d forget it now.” Lily grinned at her. “Know why? ‘Cause you’re all Sev can talk about! I’m so proud of him, making another friend. And if you still have a crush on him… take it from me, I think it’s reciprocated!” Lily sang the last bit, dancing on her tiptoes in excitement.

Hermione’s stomach swooped. What? No way. He didn’t see her that way. Did he?

She failed to notice, in her shocked state, the tremors that rocked the castle, rattling the windows slightly, in time with her racing heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Friendly affection" my ass, Severus ;)


	28. Author’s note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note

Hi everyone, I wanted to say THANK YOU to all of you who have stuck with the story and been encouraging while I’ve had a mixture of writers’ block and a broken laptop. Motivation is pretty weird with self isolation. It’s finally getting fixed, and the inspiration is slowly coming back to me! Thanks again for all the support, (and 666 Kudos lol!) <3  
~Sabrina 

(PS: any other writers know what to do when you’ve gotten overwhelmed with all the comments and don’t know how to start replying? Executive dysfunction is a real bitch)

(PPS: Happy Beltane!)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaannnnnndd we're back! Thank you all for your endless patience once again, and encouragement. Sweet commenters, you know who you are; I want you to know that you warm me right down to my heart's very cockles <3

**SS**

The Halloween Ball was fast approaching, and Severus remembered that Hermione had never experienced a wizarding Samhain. The tradition of respecting the Old Ways would fall out of practice due to the upcoming war -if it would indeed still come to pass- but it was a favourite of his, growing up. 

And now that October 31st would no longer signify Lily’s death, not if he had anything to say about it, he could enjoy it again.

**-**

**HG**

“Hermione. Can I ask you something?”

Oh god. That was the worst thing to hear. Hermione’s anxiety spiked as she processed Severus’ request, grateful that their swim had her out of breath, buying a few seconds. Had he noticed that she was the first to their meeting spot for their morning swim, not a trace of the clothes she ‘arrived’ in? She knew she should have just gone back to the Castle each morning when she woke on the shores, instead of vanishing her adornments and conjuring her swimsuit. Did he know that something was wrong?

She hated feeling like this. Why didn't she just tell him the first time it happened?

They treaded water facing each other as she nodded, and Severus continued, “Have you read of the Wizarding traditions concerning Samhain?”

“Very briefly, why?” Jaw loosening from it’s previously clenched position, Hermione’s curiosity won out over anxiety.

“We’re to attend a ball, and the lighting of the bonfires, which will burn all night. Muggles who still follow the traditions use their fires to ward off spirits, 'monters,' Fae and ‘witches,’ however, we of the magical community light the fires to honor our magical history, our ancestors, and the living magic that flows through all. It also has some significance to Elemental magics as well.”

“I read in an alchemy text that autumn is Water’s season, right? What would Samhain have to do with it? Fall began on Sept 21st, Mabon, I think.”

“Well, you have been more aware of the Water’s presence since then, yes? Samhain is a night where the line between Humanity and Magic is very thin. If a wizard who struggled to connect with their Water affinity reached out, they would have an easier time communicating with the element. You won’t need the help, obviously, but yes, it is often a time where rituals and meditations on the Water affinity take place.” Severus explained. 

Filing that information away for her future panicking over her Water ‘issues,’ she watched as he pursed his lips uneasily, still barely able to believe that her former teacher could be unsure about anything. 

“Would you like to prepare for the celebrations together, this upcoming Hogsmead weekend? You see, it’s a masquerade ball -honoring and imitating the magical creatures around us, probably where the Muggles got the tradition of dressing as ‘monsters’ to ‘blend in’- and we can only dress in natural fibers, and I’ve never… been able to afford to follow tradition.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “And I assume you haven’t prepared, as well.”

His last statement hung in the air, and  _ if  _ she believed -which she did not, no matter what Lily said- that he had feelings for her, she would call it a well-built-excuse-to-ask-her-on-a-date. Very Slytherin, even. 

He appealed to her knowledge-voracious nature, describing a new experience, then to her soft heart, mentioning his desire to go, and wrapped it all nicely up in a practical bow ‘we need to prepare so why not together?’ sort of thing. 

If it  _ was _ a date, and she refused, her Slytherin friend had many ‘outs’ to explain how it was  _ not _ a date. But overthinking aside, she responded with a smile,

“I’d love to, Severus, thank you for helping me get the most out of this.”

-

**SS**

When Hermione had accepted his suggestion to come along with him to Hogsmead, Severus had felt awash with relief. But now...Gods. Something had to be wrong with his hormones, there wasn’t an off switch! 

His thoughts had been racing in circles ever since: He was going to see Hermione outside of Hogwarts. Would she do her hair differently? He knew it was his overly-romantic side talking, it was simply a damn outing, nothing to get so sappy about. But what the hell should he wear?!

He needn’t have worried. 

Hermione greeted him with the same easy smile she always did, and the tension in his body melted away, instead of ramping up. Fuck, would ever get used to that feeling? He hoped not. Returning her smile, he offered his arm and off they went.

-

**HG**

The cat that got the cream could never compare to the guilty pleasure Hermione felt that day. She essentially got to manhandle Severus into playing dress-up all day! And he’d been the one to suggest it, so he couldn’t complain. 

They had just left the masquerade section of Gladrags, Hermione with her golden mask, which transitioned into a crown-like array of golden branches, draped with trailing moss. She wanted to take inspiration from the Mossycoat of her Romani ancestors, a cape made of moss and gold thread, that was often tied to a Cinderella-type story. 

Gifted by the fae, it was said to give the wearer the ability to teleport, and change their shape at will. She thought it was a perfect thing to base her outfit off of.

Severus seemed to be born to attend a masquerade. His high cheekbones and Mediterranean features transported him visually to the Renaissance, no matter the mask. He eventually settled on a bone mask, taken from the skull of a Wyvern, honoring his ancestors, who shared their land with the creatures. It contrasted nicely with his dark eyes. 

Lost in her thoughts as they walked, robes and masks stowed in the bag Severus insisted on carrying, Hermione’s pace slowed. There was still some grit under her fingernails from this morning’s markings. She had to tell him. It was horrible trying to deal with it alone. 

She didn’t truly think that he would get mad. Maybe she’d just been telling herself that as an excuse not to share, because she was scared, and it was her own fault for avoiding her affinity. 

“Severus, I-” She thought she could get the whole sentence out if she looked down without meeting his eyes, but it caught in her throat. 

Imagining his worst-case reactions, or some sort of suspicion in his eyes, was paralyzing. That plan having failed, she steeled her Gryffindor courage and forced herself to look at him straight on, stalling their steps back toward the castle.

The open expression on his face soothed her worries, and the tightness in her throat. She could see his curiosity, and growing concern -likely because she looked like a nervous wreck- but nothing worse than that. Of course not. 

He was unlike anyone she’d ever known, even Harry and Ron reacted poorly half the time when she kept things from them. Unlike even his former self, despite her knowledge that most of that had been a facade. Funny, the only time Severus had gotten mad at her since the Time Event was after she’d truly been in danger. Her sweet protective bastard. The strange solidity of their friendship bolstered her.

Smiling weakly, she continued easily. 

“I have to confess something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna see me attempt to draw these two in all their Samhain regalia?
> 
> Fingers crossed they get to enjoy their celebration in peace.... dun Dun DUN


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all,  
I'd love to say that you can skip this note, but if you are enjoying my work, I hope you can take a moment to listen.  
Around the time I last put out a chapter, JK Rowling was just kicking into high gear with her transphobic tweets, comments, etc.  
As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I've had to take a long re-evaluation of my complicated feelings surrounding the Harry Potter universe.  
I've decided to claim my love for the characters and the books that I grew up with as my own, leaving Rowling behind as a former role model. She now only inspires anger and frustration in me. I wanted to be just like her, writing books that would become friends to lonely kids like me out there, to bring a little more magic into the world.  
I wonder if I had been paying attention earlier, would I have seen her for what she is? A misled, prejudiced product of a backwards world? Or would I have still missed it?  
Either way, I will not let her ignorance, stupidity, and negligence tarnish the relationship I have with these characters. Now I know that I don't have to work to be 'as good as her,' I'm already a better writer than her, by giving these characters new life outside of her shitty worldviews.  
So. Here is a short chapter within the canon of MY story that gives Severus some time to reflect on just a few important issues. Please don't worry, I will be endeavouring to seamlessly merge my views and 'teachable moments' into the story so as not to hinder the pace of their adventure.  
This one is short, but the ideas are flowing once more. Thank you for all the lovely comments and encouragement, your insights and support are astounding.  
Love, Sabrina

**SS**

Severus’ teeth had been clenched hard enough to glue themselves together since Hermione’s confession. Now that he had a full emotional range, -a bit raw still, not hidden behind Occluded walls or trauma blocks- maintaining his composure was a new challenge. 

She had hardly gotten through explaining the situation when she started crying, and he’d drawn her into his arms, his Adam's apple moving spastically as he glared at the sky to keep himself from crying too. Thank the gods. He'd  _ known  _ something was wrong. 

And she’d trusted him enough to tell him, even after his shitty behaviour last time, thank Merlin. The severity of the situation quickly extinguished the glow of pride he felt for becoming a truly  _ trusted  _ friend for the first time in his life, for being genuinely good enough, just as himself; but he’d like to think, at a better moment, that he might revel in that glow for a good long while.

But now was not the time for sentimentality, Severus thought intensely as he tore through his belongings, stuffing the invisibility cloak in his pocket. The material was impressively thin.

Now was the time for action. Something or someone had a hold on Hermione and he needed to know what it was and why. On top of all the confusion was rage, that she’d been left in such a vulnerable state, naked, each morning. 

Hermione had expressed to him that what she could remember of her nights didn’t feel malicious, and as her friend he wanted to believe her one hundred percent, but his trust in  _ her _ was warring with his distrust of this...  _ other _ . Other force, other thing, other person, he wasn't sure, but he didn’t care.

Ascending the last flight of steps leading to ‘their’ classroom, he noticed he was shaking, running, as if Hermione was actively being attacked. 

Stopping abruptly, he stood, pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathed deeply, relaxing his core, back and shoulders, and attempting to unclench his jaw as he felt the crease between his brows smoothing out. 

There was no tangible enemy, currently. The best and most important thing he could be doing right now will be to support Hermione and research what they could. He was sure of that at least. 

After that… Gods, how was he ever going to ask if he could... -What, watch? Follow? Protect her? Figure this out somehow, while she was  _ naked?!? _ \- ugh. 

What could he do without crossing a line? After torturing himself with the possibilities for a solid minute, it hit him, along with a wave of relief. He should just ask her! 

Gods, he’d have to work on his internalized misogyny. When unsure of what to do in a situation concerning a woman’s body, ASK HER, Snape, duh! 

He’d read that, early in his teaching career when Minerva was introducing him to Head of House duties. She’d shoved books on parenting, puberty, sexuality, identity and gender issues down his throat until he couldn’t tell left from right, stating gruffly; “I may not know ye too well, lad, but take it from someone who  _ never _ intended to have children: Parent or not, you’re damn well gonna need these.” 

The books had been immensely helpful over the years, in deciphering the blubbering mumbles his students came to him with, everything from homesickness to broken hearts, pimples to periods, help with temporary glamour spells for the Trans and Gender Non-Conforming Slytherins who couldn’t reveal their true selves at home, and sternly speaking with his Cis-Gendered students about their new roommates after dormitory swaps. 

Magic wouldn’t allow them to swap dormitories if they were somehow “lying” of course, despite their archaic concerns. As if they could lie about something like this!

Following the books’ advice to the letter helped, for even with his snakes, he hadn’t had the capacity for much more than a professional clearing up of the issue at hand, and a stern nudge out the door. Despite his cut-and-dry methods, he knew his consistency was reassuring enough to the Slytherins to earn him a reputation as ‘better than asking mom or dad.’ 

The books even helped him heal some of his trauma, learning that what his parents had done was not the norm, and understanding -Much too late, then- why his behaviour had been offputting to Lily when she made her choice to pursue Potter. 

He’d always be grateful to Minerva for all of that, but now he could kiss her. He would hate to rush to Hermione in a panic, having assumed responsibility for her problem, and along with it, her _body,_ like some ass. His only responsibility here was to listen to her and collaborate on how they would work to fix the issue, together. 

Walking again, he smiled weakly up at a portrait of a knight -ironically, in the midst of saving a ‘damsel in distress’- and felt rather sorry for his fellow men. Being told by the patriarchal system to ‘man up’ all their lives, to the point that they would take-grab-snatch- _ steal _ responsibility for women’s issues as well; just so unnecessarily stressful! 

It was incredibly empowering, knowing he could and  _ should _ work collaboratively, instead of shouldering all issues himself. 100% of the population should not be bossed around by assholes who only represent 50%, that was simply illogical, and so was the assumption that there was a binary at all! Also, race and class issues, woo don't get him started.

So, his anxieties were _somewhat_ soothed as he approached the door. 

He knew, whatever was beyond it, he and Hermione would be facing it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome!


End file.
